


A Second Chance at a First Impression

by MsMK



Series: F/P/S-Cest [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Amnesia, Brain Damage, Caregiver Boss, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Medical, Medical stuff, Memory Loss, Multiverse on the surface, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Undertale Multiverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMK/pseuds/MsMK
Summary: Stretch and Boss aren't exactly the shining example of friendship. They've never gotten along, never even pretended to.But after an accident on game night, Boss blames himself for Stretch's injuries and volunteers to make up for it by helping get him back on his feet. With Amnesia and possible loss of mental faculties, not to mention a flip-flopped personality as a result, they aren't exactly sure how long that will take.But Boss does know that this is not the Stretch he knew--and he doesn't know how to feel about the changes.
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Spicyhoney
Series: F/P/S-Cest [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1386517
Comments: 122
Kudos: 138





	1. The One with the Accident

There had been a lot of guilt in Boss' life. A lot of regret, so many times he could have done more, helped more, or that he was the only survivor and didn't deserve to be.

But nothing compared to the guilt he was feeling right now, watching Stretch through the window of his hospital room as he fogged the mask with light breaths, the machines around him beeping and whirring quietly. He looked so frail, so fragile--which he was, at only 5 HP but he'd never acted like it, always toeing the line and talking big, being so animated. Boss hated his stupid smug grin and snarky voice but he would trade anything for the chance to hear him insult him right now, because Stretch being so _still_ and _quiet_ was unnatural and wrong.

It was his fault. He knows it, no matter what anyone says, no matter how much Red wants to blame himself. It was him that needled Red, pushed him into going to game night even though he'd just done a Judgement. He knew it was all still burning fresh, even if the people he judged here on the surface weren't as bad as those in his part of the underground it never mattered--Red should have stayed home, should have been allowed to sleep it off and forget, but Boss had to be a stickler for manners and make him go anyway.

He touched the glass, leaning in to watch Stretch's chest rise ever-so-slightly. They'd never gotten along, always at each other's throats for one reason or another, but Stretch was a good man who didn't deserve this.

It was a lightly joking threat from Boss about some violent takeover of Stretch's estates in the game that had set Red off. He went into Judgement mode, right in the middle of Monopoly, and the wail of echoed agony as he set his sights on the highest LV in the room was going to haunt Boss for the rest of his life. He could have taken it, maybe, let the Judgement take him down, let them heal his wounds, he might have survived--but he didn't have a chance to find out.

Stretch had shoved him aside, giving Red a new target, and lucky for everyone involved that Stretch hadn't a single drop of EXP in his bones because there was nothing to Judge. His HP was untouched but he still suffered something, falling unconscious immediately with a horrible cry of confusion. They'd rushed him to the hospital and after a few hours the doctors and Sans were able to confirm that something had been damaged--just not his body.

He could hear them through the glass--leaving him outside did nothing to assuage his guilt.

"His mental activity is on a different wavelength than last time," the doctor was explaining. "Due to his frequent visits we know this activity is unusual, even in an unconscious state. We should be prepared for memory loss or maybe possible damage to his mental acuity."

"along with that there's another issue," Sans had said, his own hand hovering over Stretch's chest. "i can usually sense the Judge faintly in both him an' red, even when it's far from active. m'getting nothin' right now. s'possible red's Judgement passed only on _his_ Judge's consciousness, i've done that with people with violent alternate personalities--usually nixes the whole violent personality, if that side of their consciousness was the only one did the bad stuff. which may mean he don't have it anymore."

"IS THAT...BAD?" Blue asked, his eyelights shaky as he gently held Stretch's hand, limp and full of wires. "HE ALWAYS HATED JUDGING, AND WITH YOU TWO HERE MAYBE HE DOESN'T NEED TO DO IT ANYMORE?"

"should be okay, but might change him. the judge was an integral part'a his life, so without it, his personality might change. do y'know anything about how he was before he had it?"

Blue shook his head. "I WAS SO YOUNG. I DON'T REALLY REMEMBER."

"Well, I think we should prepare for him to be unable to return to regular life, at least not right away," the doctor interjected. "If he does have the projected memory loss, he may need someone to take care of him as he remembers how to take care of himself."

"THAT'S FINE, OF COURSE I CAN--"

"I'll do it."

All three heads swiveled to Boss, now in the doorway. His offer hung in the air as Blue and Sans exchanged looks.

"look, boss, this ain't your fault, ok?" Sans said, walking over to lay a gentle hand on his arm. "he chose to take your place in the Judgement an' red woulda killed ya if he'd gone through with Judging you, yeah? maybe stretch'll need some babysitting but he'll be okay. no need to feel guilty."

"YES, BOSS, I'VE CARED FOR PAPY WHEN HE'S SICK BEFORE, I'M MORE THAN CAPABLE OF--"

"But you need to work," Boss interrupted, crossing his arms. "I'm still untransitioned since we came up here. I can't work yet. If Stretch will not be working then you can't afford to take off, too, and I'm already sitting around my house twiddling my thumbs. It isn't about guilt, though I don't accept the idea that I didn't have a hand in this, I am simply thinking of the most cost-effective and logical way to handle this."

"OH," Blue sighed, tapping his mandible as if trying to think of a way to disprove his theories. "BUT, HIS HP! HE'S SO DELICATE--"

"And my brother has low HP as well and I've cared for him my whole life," Boss pressed. "I am more than capable."

They exchanged looks again, and the obvious elephant in the room grew bigger. Boss sighed.

"I realize we don't get along. We haven't exactly been a working example of friendship. But that doesn't mean that we can't both suck it up for a bit and get along. He didn't protest two weeks ago when you needed me to watch him, when he had the flu--" He hesitated, wincing a bit. "Well, he did protest. Quite loudly. But he stopped after an hour or so and we had an alright day. Please, let me help you with this? I'm going mad sitting at home by myself waiting for the government to decide I'm fit for work."

"...IT'S TRUE THAT I WON'T BE ABLE TO TAKE MUCH TIME OFF, ESPECIALLY WITH PAPY OUT OF WORK…" Blue conceded, worrying his fingertips as he peeked back over at Stretch. "AND YOU DO KNOW HOW TO CARE FOR LOW HP, SO MAYBE...IT WOULD BE OKAY?"

"I can make sure he has all the necessary information, give him the hospice hotline?" The doctor offered. "Depending on how much care your brother will need, he may be able to get paid for this by the county, even in spite of his citizenship status since it's a private arrangement."

Boss nodded, that sounded about right, that's basically the reason Red can get paid to Judge without being transitioned. "Then it's settled. I watch him, I feel a little better, you can go to work and know he's safe, and I can get paid so Red may take some deserved and much needed time off. Everyone is happy."

"I SURE HOPE SO," Blue mumbled, looking back at Stretch. "OKAY. OKAY. I THINK...I'M GONNA TAKE PAPYRUS' ADVICE FROM THIS MORNING AND MAYBE GO TAKE A NAP IN THE WAITING ROOM."

"good idea for all of us," Sans agreed, patting Blue on the shoulder and helping to lead him out past Boss.

Boss nodded politely to the doctor as he walked out, too, and then slipped into the room, inching closer to the pile of wires and cacophonous beeping.

It hardly seemed right, not fair. He should be the one in this bed clinging to life, he was the one with blood on his hands. Stretch is an asshole, he's the kind of person to push on your bruises on your ego until you snap, the kind that'll pinpoint what bothers you and bat at it like a cat with a toy. He'd once told Boss to give up transitioning into the work force aboveground because nobody would hire a murderer anyhow, but he didn't deserve _this_.

"You got hurt protecting me," he said softly. "I owe you my life, and I plan to repay you as best as I can by helping you regain yours. So pull through this, goddammit, or else I'll never sleep again, you hear me, Stretch? The chance to order me around all you like, to make me fetch things for you or feed you or whatever you need, it's all sitting right here, waiting for you to wake up and take it. So don't you _fucking_ quit."

The machines beeped back at him, and it was enough life in this room to steady him. He watched the pulse monitor, the steady rise and fall of his magic on the screen. He may be still, but he's alive.

He pulled up a chair and sat vigilant, watching the monitor pulse. It's going to be a long wait, probably, but he isn't leaving until he sees those sockets open.

He's got a job to do.

* * *

It was dark in the hospital when Boss woke, save for the gentle light from the bedside table. He stirred slightly, trying to figure out what had woken him, a prickling sensation like--

\--like he was being watched.

It took him a moment to realize the eyelights belonged to Stretch. Fuzzy, diffused white lights peeking out from beneath hooded sockets, which was odd because Stretch had always had orange eyelights the color of honey. He sat up, but as quickly as he had seen them they extinguished, his sockets drooping shut and the beeping holding steady around him.

He stood, then, unsure if this counted as waking and if he should call the nurse. He flicked the light on, crossing back over to hover near Stretch, hesitantly pressing his fingertips to the inside of his wrist to feel his magic pulse himself, not trusting the machine.

"damn. which hospital did they take me to?"

He might have startled if he hadn't had the training he did, if he hadn't recognized that low, melodic voice even as raspy and dry as it was at the moment, muffled by the breathing mask.

He looked down at Stretch in bewilderment, and he gazed up with a dopey smile and those soft, fuzzy white eyelights. "...Ebott Mercy. As always."

"then you must be new," he managed, coughing just a bit. "seen a lot of nurses, but tall, dark and handsome usually isn't their style."

Boss only stared at him, frozen in confusion and still holding his wrist. He could still be sleeping? It would explain the strange eyelights and the...flirting? But he doesn't normally dream and especially doesn't dream of Stretch throwing a pickup line in his direction.

So was he teasing him then? Wake up to find him doting upon him, sleeping in the chair, caring, and decide to make fun of him for caring about one life versus the many others he'd ended?

"sorry, m'i making you uncomfortable? y'don't gotta respond if you have a boyfriend already or anything."

"No," Boss chirped sharply, pressing the 'call nurse' button as he was instructed to do if he woke. "No, I don't, it's just that I can't tell if you're teasing me or if they gave you too large a dose of pain meds."

Stretch started to respond, but hurried footsteps in the hall drew Boss' attention, the door flinging open. Blue came through first, the nurse right behind him to immediately start checking vitals.

"hey, sans," Stretch hummed happily as his brother rushed between him and Boss, snatching up his hand. "what am i in for this time?"

"OH, PAPY, I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE AWAKE! YOU'VE BEEN OUT FOR 36 HOURS!" Blue pressed Stretch's hand to his chest. "DON'T WORRY, EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY."

Stretch shook his head, minutely and with great difficulty. "not worried. where's dad?"

Everything stopped. Even the nurse, sensing the room, paused in his movements as Blue froze. 

"DAD IS...PAPY, DAD HAS BEEN...GONE FOR YEARS." Blue managed, squeezing his hand gently. "DO YOU NOT REMEMBER? HE PASSED, AND WE PUT HIS DUST IN THE RIVER? YOU TOOK OVER THE RIVERBOAT?"

More silence, and those fuzzy eyelights sharpened, diffused, and sharpened again. "...no. no i...don't."

"OH. OH, OH, OKAY, OKAY, THE DOCTOR SAID, UH, THERE MIGHT BE MEMORY LOSS! IT'S OKAY, WE'LL GET THROUGH THIS, OKAY?" Blue stuttered, panic rising in his voice.

"I'll get the doctor," Boss offered. "We can go over what he does remember. Alright?"

Blue nodded, smiling wobbily at Stretch as Boss slipped from the room.

"IT'S OKAY PAPY. WE'LL DO THIS TOGETHER."


	2. The One with the Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch gets questioned and tested for the severity of his loss of memory and mental acuity. He also exhibits a drastic change in demeanor, at least toward Boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys like this! I feel bad for always starting new things instead of working on my old ones but honestly I'm just happy to be writing ANYTHING sometimes
> 
> Warning: self-confidence issues, mentions of brain damage/amnesia/loss of motor skills/discalculia and other learning disorders

"Name?"

"papyrus."

"Last name?" The doctor clarified.

Stretch hummed, looking over at Blue in confusion. "don't have one, we're the only skeletons around...well, i guess not since handsome here showed up."

"There's eight of us now--" Boss informed him, cut off by the doctor shaking his head. "...but we'll discuss it after we finish probing your memory. Of course."

"Your last name is Aster, chosen by you and your brother when you reached the surface." The doctor started to turn the page, but Stretch snorted out a laugh.

"yeah, the surface. good one. i think i'd remember that one."

"BUT WE _ARE_ ON THE SURFACE, PAPY," Blue insisted, pulling out his phone. "IT'S NIGHT RIGHT NOW, BUT I HAVE A PICTURE OF THE FIRST SUNSET WE EVER SAW, LOOK--"

Stretch furrowed his brow, taking the phone and swiping through the pictures, his face relaxing to awe and confusion. Then, right there, a hint of recognition.

"chara. they sat on that log and...and i met the man from the ruins." He shook his head. "i...remember that. it's fuzzy, like remembering a movie, or remembering a story someone else told you?"

"But you don't recall your father's death?" The doctor asked, and Stretch shook his head. "Interesting. It isn't retrograde amnesia, if you still remember some things. I think with your case it's going to be more complicated than an amount of time lost. May I continue?"

He nodded, and the doctor flipped the page as Stretch leaned back in the bed with a sigh.

"How old are you?"

"that's easy, i'm--" He hesitated, furrowing his brow again. "...i...don't know. i was gonna say 20, but i remember i was 26 when i met chara."

"You're 28," Blue supplied gently.

"Birthday?" The doctor asked, tapping his pen on the clipboard.

"february 13th."

"Count from one to ten for me."

"one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

"What accident led you to be admitted here?"

He shook his head.

The doctor noted it. "What day of the week is it?"

"...tuesday? no, thursday."

"It's Friday," the doctor corrected him. "Where are you right now?"

"ebott mercy," he answered confidently.

"HOW DO YOU REMEMBER THAT BUT NOT THAT WE ARE ON THE SURFACE?" Blue asked, exasperated.

"he told me when i woke up," Stretch said, nodding at Boss. "so i guess that shouldn't count?"

"I'll count it as the first thing you remember after the injury," the doctor supplied, marking it down. "Memory retention since waking up appears fine but we'll ask again in a few hours. What was your father's name?"

"w.d. gaster."

"And your mother's?"

Blue held up a hand. "OH, WE NEVER KNEW--"

"ariel." Stretch looked at his brother with an apologetic smile. "her name was ariel."

"BUT YOU...YOU SAID WE NEVER MET HER," Blue said softly.

"you didn't," Stretch sighed. "i was six when she died."

"BUT THEN I WOULD HAVE BEEN AN INFANT, BARELY…" Blue's jaw snapped shut as he realized what that meant, leaning back. "...JUST BARELY BORN."

"sorry, sans, i...can't remember why i didn't tell you that." He sighed and brought a wobbly hand to his head. "maybe...dad asked me…?"

"We'll move on for now. I'd like to get through this last page. we can't get a neurologist in here for you because you haven't a physical brain, so unfortunately we will have to be very thorough with our psychological evaluations throughout your recovery. And we'll also need to run a series of tests and activities to see if you've retained your motor skills and basic academic knowledge."

"yeah, makes sense."

Boss snorted before he could stop himself, and everyone looked up at him. "Oh, Gods, that was so rude, I'm sorry. It's just, you _hate_ hospitals, and I don't think I've ever seen you take news of more strenuous treatment without an expletive added on."

Stretch chuckled a bit. "why would i curse at him? he's just doing his job."

"I don't know, I've never understood it, but, you didn't do it this time so it's a moot point."

"BOSS, PLEASE, HE DOESN'T NEED TO HEAR ABOUT HOW IMPOLITE HE'S BEEN IN THE PAST. WHAT'S THE NEXT QUESTION, DOCTOR?"

Boss leaned back, catching Stretch's eye and startling to see him staring at him. Stretch blinked and flushed slightly, his magic a touch lighter orange than before as he looked away.

His eyelights are still white.

* * *

When all was said and done and Stretch was resting again, Boss was buried in brochures, papers, and notes from the doctors.

_Patient's motor skills are reduced, particularly fine motor skills and some gross motor coordination, akin to having undergone a stroke or similar traumatic brain injury. Therapy tools have been provided to the caregiver and patient will be brought to physical therapy twice a week until further notice._

_No current frustrations have come up with vocal speech patterns, save for some occurrence of echolalia (repeating the question or phrase before answering) and there is a small delay in audio processing--patient may take 3-5 seconds before answering. Patient's next of kin have informed us this is not entirely unusual--a diagnosis of ADHD was in the works with the patient's current psychiatrist before the accident. Still we advise the family to look out for worsening speech or regression in vocabulary, and prescribe speech therapy once a week._

_Reading and writing seem to have been impaired to grade school level. Patient seemed frustrated with continued probing of the lost skills, insisting he knows how to do it. Testing was ended at patient's discretion when he became distressed with continued incorrect answers and will be resumed at a later date._

Boss sighed, glancing over to the bed where Stretch was curled up so small, snuggled into his own gangly limbs. His guilt kept climbing, as he kept reading, as he looked over the daily exercises and lost knowledge. Stretch growing "distressed" was a kind way to put it, he'd practically thrown a tantrum, he'd been on the brink of tears when he realized he couldn't do anything he enjoyed anymore--no video games, no reading, no writing, no fiddling with machines or other small science, and his numbers were suddenly jumbled in a strange, sort of out of the blue occurrence of discalculia that the doctors couldn't seem to explain.

Twice a week physical therapy. Once a week speech therapy. Daily worksheets and remedial schooling if he wants to get back to where he was with reading, writing, and math. Even with all that there's a possibility he'll never regain all his skills, he may be unable to build new as well. There's so much they can't know yet.

"so what's your story?"

Boss looked back at Stretch, soft white eyelights peering up from where he was curled in the blankets. "My story?"

"you said there's eight of us now, but you're the only one sitting here looking over my papers," he pointed out. "thought you mighta been a nurse, but seems like you know sans pretty well. friends? is that what we were?"

Boss hummed, hesitant to explain their dynamic, because no, he wouldn't have called them friends before all this. 

Best to avoid the question by answering the first curiosity.

"We're all a big family of sorts. Not related, of course, just strangely congruent. We all emerged from the underground within a few weeks of each other, from different parts of the mountain. Each set of us has two, a Sans and a Papyrus. I'm the Papyrus of my underground." He set his highlighter down, giving up on highlighting important info. It's all important. "My brother and the one that retains the moniker Sans, they have an ability to judge people and punish them based on their LV. Because of me you accidentally became a target for my brother's, and you were Judged. Lucky for us you had no LV to speak of, but it clearly doesn't mean you escaped unscathed. I'm going to take care of you while you get better."

"so you kinda are a nurse?" He asked, shuffling slightly beneath the covers. "just a job, then? we aren't friends."

That made Boss pause. He sounded so...sad about that? He supposes with no memory of who Boss was and no way to judge and tell he had so much blood on his hands, it wasn't natural for him to hate Boss like he used to.

Boss pushed away from the table, rolling his chair over to the bed. "Would you _like_ to be friends?"

"only if you do!" Stretch blurted, pulling the blanket up to hide his blush. "i mean, i know maybe i was a little heavy-handed with the 'handsome' stuff but if you're gonna watch me stumble over myself and be dumber than a fifth grader, then i probably don't have a chance, so friends would be good?"

Boss smirked in spite of himself. It's possible Stretch is still teasing him. He'd been flirty and nice to Boss before, once, for over a week, and just when Boss had been starting to trust it, maybe even reciprocate, Stretch had pulled it all out from beneath him by claiming to be messing with him.

But this time was different, the circumstances here made it a slim chance that was the case this time. 

He slid a finger into the blanket to tug it down enough to see his face. "Firstly, you aren't dumb. You have experienced a very traumatic memory and skills loss, but you are not dumb. I will be there because I want to be--I will not be there to judge or laugh at you. Being friends sounds very nice, if you are truly okay with that."

"it is," Stretch chuckled, seemingly a little nervous. He curled up a little tighter, his blush deepening. "as a friend, uh, could you do something kind of embarrassing for me?"

"Anything," Boss insisted, and he meant it, he realized. He would bark like a dog if it meant that Stretch would stop acting so...self-conscious.

"my brother brought a bag? should be at the foot of the bed. having trouble getting back to sleep and...maybe you could read me the book in there? kinda tired of not being able to read myself."

"Of course."

Boss stood, finding the bag easily--packed since long before the accident, a bag they always brought when Stretch went to the hospital in case of an extended stay. A few items he couldn't use anymore--crosswords, sudoku, the Rubik's cube--were quickly removed when Blue found out about his new limitations, leaving it rather scarce until he could bring more tomorrow. He thought it interesting that he had chosen to leave a book in…

...until he pulled it out, unable to keep a small smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yes, this did make sense, especially given the circumstances.

He settled back in his chair, careful with the well-worn spine as he opened it.

And he read.

"Fluffy Bunny and the Farmer's Garden. Fluffy Bunny was usually very good at stocking up for the winter…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Before-Stretch was really joking before when he flirted with Boss or do we think maybe Boss is just really dense as fuck and Stretch was just too anxious to get rejected to keep it up? 🤔


	3. The One Where He Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch can't really do everything he used to be able to do, but the jury is still out on what, apparently, until he fucks it up himself. At least he's home now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some interesting ideas for this series but some don't end up fitting so forgive me if I don't get these out in a timely manner

By the time of checkout, Stretch was very much ready to leave. He didn't know what home was like here but he was pretty ready to find out--better than the incessant beeping of machines and the stale bread from the cafeteria, ar least.

He hopes, as he slowly tries to pack by himself, that Boss knows how to cook. He strikes him as the kind of person who might be good at that, and his memory may be fuzzy but he's pretty sure him and his brother cook about as good as his dad did, which was terrible, and his fuzzy memories made the ones of his mom and her amazing cooking stand out so much better. Maybe it's nostalgia, but she would make cookies as dinner baked, she would let him help mix the chocolate chips in, standing on the little step stool by the sink with an apron far too large and he could almost still taste the cookie dough in his mouth.

Chocolate was hard to come by underground, increasingly so as time went on, and he was never able to replicate the recipe with Dad. Eventually he decided not to waste what few handfuls of chocolate chips he could get his hands on, and stopped trying.

"Stretch?"

"hm?" He looked up slowly, eyelights meeting with crimson ones and oh, how that gaze made his soul flutter just a little.

"You were just standing here. Are you alright?" Boss asked, picking up the book Stretch had fumbled when he was lost in his thoughts.

"oh...yeah, just...spaced." He picked up the tablet his brother had brought him, carefully, but damn his butterfingers as he fumbled that, too. "ah! shit!"

Boss snatched it up before it hit the ground, handing it back to him wordlessly. He tried again, cursing his slow movements, and Boss kept a hand ready beside his just in case until it was safely inside the bag. He gently tucked the Fluffy Bunny book in beside it. "Do you want help or do you want to do it yourself?"

"...maybe you should help," he mumbled, sitting back on the bed, defeated.

"There's nothing wrong with needing some help, Stretch." Boss looked around the room, spotting a few more things that needed to be packed. "That's what I'm here for, so feel free to boss me around."

Stretch chuckled slightly. "s'that why they call you boss?"

Boss chuckled in return, a gloved hand resting on the bag as he pointed warningly at him. "You don't want to know why I'm called Boss."

"oh, but i think i do now," he laughed. "i'll guess it, you'll see."

"I really don't think you will, but feel free to try." He zipped the bag up and picked up some papers. "I have your release papers to sign. There's good news, too--your HP as of discharge is up to 10."

"that's...good news? that's pretty low," Stretch protested, kicking his feet. He wished he was shorter so his feet didn't touch the floor.

Boss hesitated in his answer, so Stretch looked up curiously. He hummed as he placed the papers on the rolling table and rolled it toward him. "You've been at 5 HP for a long time. Just like Sans and Red. But it seems that whatever happened removed that limitation, and your HP is climbing. Have you not always been at 5?"

"nah, i was always somewhere around 15 or 20?" He picked up the pen, frowning as the lines came out wobbly and shaky. Nothing like his signature was supposed to look. "...maybe i can't sign."

Boss looked it over, swiping his own signature beneath, curled and perfect lines. "It's fine as long as you made a mark for me to verify you signed. We can tell the doctor about your handwriting."

Stretch pushed the rolling table away, frowning. It shouldn't be so damn hard to sign his name! Like he knows he knows  _ how _ , but for some reason his hand doesn't want to do it.

"Baby steps," Boss reassured him, tapping the stack of papers to even them out. "You have to walk before you can run, and you'll need fine motor skills before you can write. Nobody's rushing you."

Except himself, but Stretch didn't say that.

* * *

"--CAN JUST CALL ME IF YOU NEED ME, I'M ALWAYS AVAILABLE FOR YOU, OF COURSE, YOU KNOW I DON'T MIND TAKING A DAY OR TWO OFF IF IT MEANS YOU'RE CARED FOR! LET ME TAKE THAT, YES, MUCH BETTER, THIS IS YOUR ROOM, SECOND DOOR ON THE LEFT AND--"

Sans-- _ Blue  _ continued chattering as he took Stretch's bag, putting everything away for him as he stood in the doorway, overwhelmed and overstimulated, his head pounding and his brother's chatter sounding more like nails on a chalkboard than reassuring regularity. He wanted to respond, but his thoughts seemed too slow to keep up with everything he was saying, the pauses weren't long enough to finish processing his words and he felt himself growing frustrated--

"Blue," Boss interrupted, causing the smaller skeleton to screech to a halt and look up attentively. "Give him a moment to breathe, it feels routine for you but all of this is very new to Stretch."

"OH!" Blue smiled at Stretch apologetically. "RIGHT. I'M SO SORRY. DO YOU NEED ANYTHING BEFORE I GO IN FOR WORK? NEED ME TO STAY A DAY? I CAN CALL OUT."

Stretch looked around the room, so foreign but familiar. He can tell it's his stuff but he doesn't  _ remember _ it. "...no, uh, i have boss...you need to work, you've taken a few days for my hospital time anyway, right?"

Blue shuffled nervously in place, eyelights flicking to Boss. 

"...YOU'RE SURE? YOU DON'T MIND?" Stretch shook his head, and Blue nodded, face hardening with resolve. "RIGHT. THEN I'LL GO TO WORK. I'LL PICK UP DINNER TONIGHT, SOMETHING NOSTALGIC! BOSS, YOU HAVE MY NUMBER."

"I do," he agreed, helping to herd Blue out of the room. They disappeared down the hall, talking all the way as Stretch turned to take in the room a little better.

It seemed his tastes hadn't changed that much. Lots of bumblebee things--a trend started by their dad as that was his nickname for him. He assumed his brother goes by Blue as an homage to his own nickname, Blueberry, and maybe he still has his own blueberry-related paraphenalia in his room. 

There was a TV, with a game console he didn't recognize and sadly wouldn't be playing much, it seemed. He had a desk littered with papers, and rifling through them revealed poetry, songs, music notes and this, this he remembers--he learned how to play guitar from his father, and he remembers writing terrible music as a teen. He hoped that maybe he'd improved, but he was scared to even touch the gorgeous guitar that hung in the cradle beside the desk, too afraid that his fingers won't cooperate.

The most surprising thing was probably the cigarettes. An ashtray filled with butts, a haphazardly open pack laying open on the table...he remembered vaguely, the taste of smoke on his tongue, an exasperated sigh from Blue whenever he would light one up. He looked at his fingers, the slight yellowing between the index finger and middle, as if proof to the memories he can't quite place.

"He really can talk when he's nervous."

He jumped and looked back to the door quickly, as if caught snooping, even though it's his own room. "who, sans?"

"Yes. He probably recited about a million things and dug out this ancient inhaler before he finally left," Boss mused, tossing him said inhaler. He caught it, turning it over in his hand, remembering puffing this stupid thing to keep running after Alphys and Undyne as a kid. "You know, you might have been more careful, perhaps not picking up a smoking habit if you're asthmatic."

"couldn't tell you why i did," he sighed, shrugging. He pocketed the inhaler, just in case. "but uh, he's always like that, then? s...blue?"

"You mean is he always a touch overbearing, manically optimistic, and slightly patronizing?" Boss asked, stowing his hands in his pockets. "Yes. Though not usually to this extent. Was he not always like that?"

Stretch hummed, trying to piece together a solid image of his brother in his mind. It was jumbled, and a little vague, like trying to snatch a reflection. "i think...he was quieter, as a kid. energetic, but usually it was me taking care of him, not the other way around."

"I suppose that switch came around about the time your HP became stunted to 5." Boss looked around, and Stretch felt the itch of nervousness--a handsome man is alone in his room with him, he's gonna be here all day, because he  _ wants  _ to take care of him, and it's all a little too perfect and Stretch is waiting for the catch. "I've never been in your room before."

"...no?" Stretch pried. 

"We didn't...always get along. Before." Boss admitted, picking up a stuffed bumblebee gently to inspect it. "I was a bit tempestuous when we first came, and we grated each others' nerves. By the time we had both mellowed out it had become more of a habit to hate each other." He looked at him with a determined gaze. "But I'm ready to put that behind me. You said you wanted to be friends, and I'm willing to have a clean start. If you still want to."

"...yeah," Stretch hummed, looking down at his scuffed converse. "yeah, i'd like that. be nice to know exactly where i stand with at least one person in the world."

There was silence for a moment, and then Boss made a sound as if clearing his throat, putting the stuffed bumblebee back on the dresser. 

"Anyway. I'll make lunch. Any requests?"

Stretch shrugged, unsure what he even likes to eat nowadays. "surprise me."

"Wonderful. I'll leave you to get reacquainted with your things, if…" Boss trailed off, cocking his head slightly. "...Stand up straight."

"what--oh!" He squeaked as Boss gently pulled him upright, inspecting him, his gloved hands on his upper arms and gods is he always this warm? Stretch has half a mind to ask him for a snuggle.

"You're shorter than me," Boss observed, his brow crinkling in confusion. "That's never been the case when I'm not wearing boots. Did you shrink?"

"...maybe you grew?" Stretch offered with a shrug.

"Impossible, all my clothes are tailored very precisely, if I had grown then nothing would fit," he hummed, looking down at him. "Well, maybe you should try your clothes on, then, I suspect some of it no longer fits you. I'll be back with some lunch."

* * *

Boss balanced the tray--sandwiches, simple and easy to eat even with less motor function. He'd considered soup, but the image of Stretch spilling soup down his front was less funny now than it might have been a month ago. Probably the guilt.

He knocked on Stretch's door, waiting for the murmured reply before he pushed it open.

"I made sandwiches, if you don't like them I can--goodness, what on earth happened?"

Stretch looked up at him in exasperation, plopped in the middle of the floor with clothes piled around him, every drawer and the closet open and spilling out in front of him, and yet he himself was only partially dressed. It occurred to Boss, entirely too late, that Blue had helped Stretch dress this morning and the whole idea of trying on his clothes may have been too hard of a task to expect him to do alone right now.

"i don't...know…" he mumbled, casting his gaze down as he flushed with embarrassment, holding a wadded up shirt in front of his bare chest. "i  _ know _ how to do this, i do!"

"I believe you," Boss reassured him, setting the tray on the desk and wading through the socks and pants to kneel before him. "Do you want help or instructions? Just in case."

"help. please." His shoulders slumped in defeat, and Boss hesitated.

He's so  _ different _ . Stretch before never admitted fault, and even when he did it was a flippant sort of "ah well, what can you do" attitude. Never defeat, never uncertainty, even inebriated or injured or sick he was stubborn beyond belief. It was unclear, now, how much of that was Stretch and how much of it was the Judge, but it can't be easy to admit you can't do the most basic tasks anymore.

He slid over until he was sitting beside him, knowing from experience with his brother that it's less embarrassing if you're on an even keel with the person helping you. "What are we trying on first?"

He paused, allowing Stretch the time to process, and finally after a few moments he pointed to a yellow sweatshirt. Or rather, he tried to point, his hand sort of gesturing vaguely, and he huffed in annoyance--

Boss gently wrapped his own fingers around Stretch's, shaping them into the pointing gesture, and followed his movements to point at the correct item. When he let go, the pointer finger relaxed slightly but stayed in the correct gesture, and he could see Stretch smile minutely before he dropped it.

Boss pulled the sweatshirt closer, a large, thick-knit sweater, a few dropped stitches and chunky cable knits giving away it's handmade nature. A happy bumblebee was crocheted on the front, cute and silly and nothing like anything he had ever seen Stretch wear before.

At least it wasn't one of those abhorrent punny t-shirts he owns.

"I think this would have been big on you even before," Boss remarked, not drawing attention to the way he had to help guide Stretch's arms through the sweater.

"mom made it," Stretch mumbled as he slowly pulled it down over his head. Sure enough, he was swimming in it. "wanted to make it big enough to grow into. i think she was prepared to have two stocky sons, not a beanpole like me."

"You've been talking about her quite a bit, as opposed to never before," Boss pointed out, hands coming down to roll up the sleeve once, twice, until it was settled right on his wrist. 

To his surprise, when he looked up, Stretch was covering his face with the other sleeve, trying and failing to hide a stream of tears.

"Stretch, it's okay to need a little help, especially in your case," Boss reminded him, feeling a little awkward.

Stretch shook his head. "it isn't that. i just...i really,  _ really  _ want my dad. it doesn't make sense that he's  _ gone _ and we're up  _ here _ and i look for him but he just isn't  _ there _ ."

"Ah," Boss said softly, hesitating before gently patting his hand. "I never knew my father, or my mother. Red and I were on our own from very small. You're lucky to have known them both."

To his surprise, Stretch fell forward, right into him, and he caught him, worry gripping him that maybe this was some sort of fainting spell--

\--until he felt Stretch curl against him, pulling him closer for a hug, and oh...he closed his arms around him in return, and said nothing when clumsy hands failed to gain purchase properly.

Yes, Stretch is different now. There's no doubt about that. Wanting to be friends, that was one thing in theory, but crying and hugging him when he felt vulnerable...it made something swell inside his chest, a protective urge, a...fondness...that he'd never had for him.

Yes, he's different, and there may yet be parts of his new personality that Boss may not like, or parts of the old one he may miss, but New Stretch is not  _ bad _ .

Not bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Stretch is just so tired and frustrated and he just wants his daddy


	4. The One With the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch and Boss' first full day together presents a lot of questions and more than one challenge. Luckily Boss is patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure where I'm going with this but as someone who helps people develop fine motor, academic, and speech skills it's kinda just nice to write about what I know so this might end up a dump of techniques and understanding, individualized therapy because fuck it
> 
> Warnings: self-consciousness about disability

"...what's the code?"

"Hm?" Boss glanced up from the home therapy plan paperwork to see Stretch across the breakfast table, poking awkwardly at his phone. "Oh. I think you have facial recognition."

"...what?" He looked perplexed at that, trying and failing the pattern once more, cursing quietly as his fingers slipped from the screen.

"Here--" Boss reached across the table, holding it up so it was level with Stretch's bewildered face. "--like that."

A noise of awe heralded the unlocking of the screen, and he slid it back across the table for Stretch to poke at.

"...so sensitive," he sighed after a moment, struggling with multiple accidental taps.

"I can fix that," Boss offered, and Stretch nodded, pushing it back over. He tapped through a few settings until the screen was less sensitive, once again sliding it back over so he could fiddle with it.

Silence as he clumsily pecked at the screen, curious to have a window into his life before the accident. Boss looked over the motor skills and academics activities, trying to formulate a plan to make them seem less like tests or lessons and more like fun. The last thing Stretch needed was more tests to potentially flub, he was already so frustrated at most activities.

"Would you want to do a puzzle with me today?" He asked, stirring his coffee and glancing up at him with what he hoped looked like a casual smirk. "The table kind, not the trap kind."

Stretch shook his head, and Boss glanced at the bowl of fruit and waffle pieces he was supposed to be eating. He hadn't seen him touch any of it yet, and that's the first time since coming home that he's expressed disinterest in doing something with Boss.

Maybe doing things the fun way wouldn't work at first. He supposed you can't always ask a patient if they want treatment because they can't exactly say no.

He took the paper of activities out, and was about to slide it over for him to choose, but remembered very quickly that he can't really read right now, and the last thing he wants is to draw attention to it.

"May I see the phone for a moment more?" He asked. Stretch paused, slowly looking up at him, and after a moment he nodded, pushing it across the table with a heavy hand. "Thank you."

Stretch stared at his breakfast bowl, smothered in honey and enticing except for the fact that the last thing he wants to do is to try and eat it in front of Boss only to fumble it all over himself. He already had to be helped into his clothes again this morning, and to be frank, looking through his phone is only doing so much when he can hardly read the words.

"There. It's a simple game but this should help." Instead of passing it back, Boss scooted his own chair over to Stretch's side, revealing that he'd downloaded some sort of piano tile game on the phone. He moved closer as he explained. "You tap the black tiles as they come and it will play the song when you get it right. It's on zen mode right now, so you should be able to play regardless of any mistakes. The button here slows the song down for practice, and this is the list of songs to choose from. This might be fun for you since you are musically inclined, and it'll be good for your tensile control."

He hummed, muttering a small thank you as he started to tap at the tiles slowly. It was nice, he'll admit, and it didn't require any reading.

Boss stayed right at his elbow, dragging his papers over to continue his research, and he was secretly grateful for the company.

* * *

"what about work?"

That gave Boss pause as he placed another puzzle piece. Stretch wasn't really helping but occasionally he would find one with the right colors and stack them by Boss to sort through, and that was progress enough.

"Well, what  _ about _ work?" Boss asked, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

"can i...still do it? whatever i do?" He paused a long moment, finger hesitating before sliding over another piece. "...what  _ do _ i do?"

Well, there's a thought. Does he even know what Stretch does for a living? It was assumed that he was a Judge, since he seemed to be always home and yet paid comfortably like Red and Sans. They took turns. Mutt had turned down the position, become a bartender somewhere, but that was a different thought entirely.

"No. I'm afraid you will never be able to do that job again," Boss said plainly. No sense sugarcoating it. "It required something you no longer possess."

"fine motor skills? long term memory?" He chuckled.

"The Judge," Boss explained curtly. 

He hummed. "so i was a Judge at some point? but it's gone now."

"Yes, that's what happens when a Judge Judges a Judge, I suppose."

"will it ever come back?"

Boss clicked another piece into place. "We don't think so, but we also don't know. It's never happened before. Do you want it to come back?"

He shook his head, almost aghast at the thought, and then ducked into his hands, squeezing his skull with a distressed noise. "...loud. the thought of it is so loud, too loud, i don't like it."

"We can stop talking about it if you want," Boss offered, concern lacing his tone as he watched Stretch huff out a breath, two breaths, before shaking it off and returning to plucking puzzle pieces up. "I'll take that as a yes. Since you can get a new job now, what do you want to do?"

"music," Stretch said swiftly, with no delay at all and conviction he'd hardly ever heard from him. "anything with music. maybe teach it? i like kids."

"You hate kids," Boss said without thinking. He shook his head. "Sorry. I meant, you didn't like kids before. At all."

"that's weird," Stretch hummed, sliding over three striped pieces for his lollipop section. "i dunno what changed. always loved kids."

Boss had an idea what changed. It's probably similar to why Red doesn't like kids, all the deaths and resets Frisk put them through before they finally got out. Boss doesn't remember those, but little kids have squidged Red out something fierce ever since.

If Stretch doesn't remember any of that, then that's a good thing in his opinion.

"Music is lovely. I play the piano myself, I've been learning since we came to the surface but I used to practice with Diana." He caught Stretch's curious look. "My Undyne. She took the name Diana, liked that it was based on a Roman Goddess of the hunt. Your Undyne goes by Dede, I think. What instruments do you play? I don't think I've ever seen you play music."

"...guitar," he said softly. "drums. synthesized music on computers. and i sing. not sure how much of that i can still do."

"Singing, that I've heard you do," Boss nodded. "Karaoke nights are the bane of my existence but you weren't shy about it. You have a lovely singing voice."

Amicable silence fell over the table and Boss returned to the puzzle. A few minutes passed before Stretch spoke again, so softly he almost missed it.

"...why didn't i like you?" He asked, propping his head in his hands and looking at the puzzle instead of Boss. "you're so nice. and you play piano."

"...To be fair, I'm not sure I've ever told you that part," Boss chuckled. "Would you like the truth or one of those little white lies that make people feel better?"

That earned him a laugh, and oh, he's so sunny and adorable when he smiles, he wondered if it was the Judge that had bogged him down so much before.

"the truth."

"I have very high LV," Boss admitted, watching his face closely. "My underground was a nasty place, and it was kill or be killed. Even so, in a world like that, I was especially brutal. Most people go insane or die by LV 10. I have 13."

Well, he'd asked for honesty, and he expected it, but it still hurt when Stretch visibly paled at the number. "...that's a lot."

He nodded. "It is."

"...how do you even get that high?"

Boss blinked, a little taken aback. Nobody had ever asked him  _ how _ he got his LV. They always just shied away after the subject was breached. "Well, hmm...there's lots of reasons. For one, Red may be Judge but I was executioner. In order for him to stay neutral, someone else had to deliver the final blow, or else he would gain too much LV to be a good Judge. So it was me, because otherwise they wouldn't let me in the chamber during Judgement and I'll be damned if anyone is locking my brother in a room with an LV-crazed maniac without me."

He paused, and Stretch nodded, a silent bid to continue.

"So...that's a large portion. Executions were frequent, our king was...deserving of one himself. Insane. He's in jail now, if you're wondering." A good thing, too, or else Boss might have a shiny new LV number now that they were free. That monster had done so much, taken so much, and didn't deserve to be sitting primly in a cell. "Another chunk was gained before I left my stripes. We never had parents, as far as I'm aware--we were street kids, and that came with a lot of self-defense. People looking to dust my brother for easy EXP had to deal with me, even when I was small I had a lot of magic and a lot of control. Protecting him became habit later in life, and as I gained rank in the guard, monsters began to realize I was much stronger than them and stopped bugging us."

"those are both good reasons," Stretch argued. "self defense, and protecting your brother. hardly a reason to hate you."

"Well, nobody's ever stopped to ask me why or how." Boss set the puzzle piece in his hand down, looking up at him. "Until now, they have only ever seen a number."

"that hardly seems fair," Stretch grumbled. "my dad says...said that everybody has a story, and not listening to it makes you just as bad as the people who hurt them."

"That's sweet, but naive," Boss admonished him. "I have a strong sense of justice, but many people do not. Anybody with LV this high you would be right to fear. I would not be sour if you feared me."

Stretch hummed, eyelights flicking over Boss across from him, before smirking just a bit. "...nah. i don't needta be scared of you."

"Oh?" Boss chuckled, turning back to the puzzle. "And why is that?"

"if you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it already," Stretch explained, reaching over with a clumsy hand to place a piece for the first time. Boss gently helped him press it down. "after all, i'm vulnerable. you have to help me dress, have to help me do everything. i didn't even know i should be scared. but you've only ever touched me just like that--gently."

"Yes, you weren't scared of me before, either," Boss chuckled, looking away from his sincerity. "Always pushed my buttons, like you just knew I'd never hit you."

"...if i was a Judge, then i knew you were good," Stretch pointed out. "so maybe you think it was your LV...but i think it had to be something else."

That was something to consider. "The only one who knows is you, I suppose."

Stretch sighed, pressing another piece into the puzzle. "but i  _ don't _ ."

* * *

The book flew across the room with a frustrated cry, and Boss dodged it smoothly, blue magic catching it before it hit the wall.

"The doctor said fifteen minutes, three times a day."

"i don't care what the doctor said!" Stretch huffed, swiping his hand across the coffee table to scatter the pencils and papers as well. "i don't want to anymore!"

"If you want to get back to--"

"maybe i'm just _fine_ being a dumbass, thanks," he seethed, turning to flop onto the couch in indignation.

"You aren't a dumbass, you're--"

"save it for someone who believes you."

Boss sighed, setting the book back on the coffee table and kneeling to pick up the pens and papers on the floor. He was inclined to agree, the intensity of the academics prescribed hardly seemed right or fair when Stretch can barely stutter through a children's book. But he also doesn't know if reducing the demand would help him or hurt him.

The sound of music caught his attention and he turned to see Stretch pressing his forehead to his phone, music wafting quietly from it as he squeezed his sockets tight.

Stretch squawked with discontent when Boss reached in to take his phone, clumsily snatching at it and missing. "hey! give it back!"

"Would it help if we play music while you read?"

A pause as Stretch considered this, and then sighed, flopping back onto the couch. "whatever. do whatever you want."

Boss changed the music to soft guitar music, setting it on the table and retrieving the book. Stretch made a noise of confusion as he lifted him bodily from his spot, settling behind him. "Sit however you like but I'm going to sit here and read."

Stretch grumbled and, as expected, indignantly stretched out across him as if he wasn't there. It was a glimmer of his previous asshole self and Boss found himself holding back a faint smile--some of it was innate, it seemed.

Boss flipped through the book until he got to the page Stretch had been working on. It was a bit harder than a beginner book, he could read it if he tried as he'd done several pages before giving up. Starting at less than the level he's at wouldn't help him any.

"...what's happening in the book now?" Stretch asked, adjusting until he lay comfortably in Boss' lap.

"You would know if you would read it," Boss hummed.

"i can read!" Stretch grumbled. "but it just psyches me out, it's like a wall of text. i try but i see how much is left and don't even wanna start."

"Would you like to trade sentences?" Boss asked. "I'll read one and you'll read one."

'...we can do that?" Stretch asked quietly. "just change the lesson like that?"

"Maybe, if we double the time? I can ask. But right now let's just do it. It can't hurt, yes?"

Stretch nodded, sitting up a little more appropriately to lean in, pressed against Boss' shoulder as he read the first sentence. He stumbled over a word or two in his sentence, but it really was nice to be done after. Then Boss would read, and help him through his sentence, and read again, and listen, and read, and listen, and before he knew it, Boss was checking his watch.

"Time," he informed him, looking over at where he was resting his chin on his shoulder.

Stretch hummed, his thoughts sluggish. "...but how does it end?"

"Do you want me to finish this story?" Boss asked, and Stretch nodded, leaning closer into Boss' natural heat, and Boss chuffed out an amused laugh, almost disbelieving. "Alright. I'll read it to you and we can pick a new book next time."

When Blue came home that afternoon, he had to do a double take, a triple take, and even then he still had to fetch the camera.

After all, catching Boss napping at all is a rare occurrence, but catching him napping with Stretch snuggled into his side, a storybook dangling from his hands?

Priceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked this chapter's ambient emotions. Very aestbetic and stuff.


	5. The One With the Gyftmas List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch isn't going to let his difficulties get in the way of Gyftmas, even if he doesn't remember most of the people he's buying for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some self-indulgent Christmas stuff. These two are very cute!
> 
> Warnings: none but Stretch being a little miffed he still can't dress himself

"can we go to the store today?"

"The store?" Boss asked, barely hanging up his coat, only halfway in the door. "Which store, and why?"

"a store, any store i can buy presents at," Stretch explained, waving his phone. "i have a gyftmas list, i guess, i found it last night. is it close?"

"It's later this week," Boss nodded, jacket hung leaving him in his shirt and cardigan, unwinding his scarf carefully. "The only reason you aren't decorated here is because we all got together to go all out on Sans and Papyrus' house."

"this  _ week? _ " Stretch groaned. "then we have to, we have to go! i'm already so far behind."

"Are you certain you're ready for a public excursion?" Boss asked carefully, trying to keep his tone light and unaccusing. "I've no qualms with it but your comfort."

"i have to," Stretch said firmly, avoiding the question. "please."

Boss hummed, closing the door finally and hanging his scarf. "Well, if you say so. Let's get dressed, if we're going out."

Stretch beamed, hopping up from the couch. He wobbled just a bit, his equilibrium sometimes wasn't so good, but it didn't stop him from rushing up the stairs. Boss almost had to sprint to keep up, fighting the urge to snatch him up and tickle him like he might have done to Frisk.

"i'm gonna do it," Stretch insisted, trying to close the door on Boss.

He chuckled and stopped it easily. "If you'd like to. If you can't do it, then call for me."

Stretch gave a clumsy salute, and Boss shook his head, supressing a smile. He made himself comfortable in the chair he'd placed by the door a few days ago, the better to give Stretch as much privacy and independence as possible.

It was only a few minutes before Stretch stuck his head back out sheepishly. "...need help zipping."

"Of course," Boss said, nothing more or less than acceptance. He stepped into the room, ready to help, but-- "Oh! That's new."

Stretch shuffled slightly, a little uncomfortable, but he did look nice in a flowing orange dress. "...i thought it might be easier than pants."

"You were able to get it on yourself," Boss praised as he zipped the back for him. "But it's a little cold for a sun dress with the snow."

"...so i should wear something else," Stretch sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Or wear it with something else," Boss corrected. "Some tights or a sweater?"

"but," Stretch sighed, kicking the dresser slightly. "that defeats the purpose of dressing myself." 

"We can't win every time," Boss said gently, setting his hands on Stretch's shoulders.

Stretch had to admit, even inside the house it was chilly. He found himself leaning into Boss' warm hands. Maybe it  _ was _ too cold for a dress, even if it meant he had to get help he'd probably rather get help than freeze to death. "...kay. help?"

"You could wear it on Gyftmas?" Boss offered, helping him unzip and step out of the dress. He turned to the closet to find something warmer. "We'll be inside, and Sans and Papyrus have a good heating system."

"that's okay," he mumbled, sitting on the bed and trying to draw the blanket over his lap a bit. "it's probably weird to wear a dress anyway."

"True, I have never seen that one, but you've worn dresses before, and skirts, women's shirts if they suited you. You have always just worn whatever struck your fancy." Boss selected a soft sweater, orange with a red stripe around the middle, and a pair of cozy track pants.

"whatever strikes my fancy," Stretch echoed. "that's awfully bold of me."

"There's a lot about you that is awfully bold, on any given day," Boss teased. "What are you doing?"

Stretch awkwardly patted  at the blanket he had drawn over his lap as his face flushed. "...nothin'."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Boss asked, turning away. "I know it isn't fun to need help getting dressed, but I won't be much help if I can't look. In the same vein, I never want to make it seem like you don't have a choice in me seeing you undressed."

"...you want the truth or a little white lie that makes everyone feel better?" Stretch joked, and Boss chuckled, waving his hand to continue. "...you're handsome, and warm, an' let's just say my magic got a little more excited than necessary with you taking my clothes off."

Boss was glad he was staring at the wall, because he's certainly not making the most polite face, and he coughed a little, reaching up to rub away the excess magic coloring his cheeks. "O-oh! Well, I'm...flattered. Do you...still need help?"

Silence for a moment. "...with my boner??"

"No! With your clothes!" Boss squeaked, a small chuckle escaping at the absurdity of it. "With your clothes. I've done worse than dress someone who's been aroused, trust me, there's no judgement."

"...yeah."

Boss did his best to keep it professional, not looking down as he helped him tug the sweater down. By the time he was helping him into his pants, the magic had dismissed, and he helped him curl his fingers around the elastic to pull them up himself.

"There. Much cozier."

"mhmm," Stretch hummed, face still flushed with embarrassment as he avoided his eye.

"Are you alright?" Boss asked gently, hesitant to touch him again in case he needed space. Come to think of it, he had touched Stretch more in the last week than he had in the entire two years he'd known him--prickly, but only with him. So friendly to anyone else.

So it caught him off guard when Stretch flopped forward against his chest, another unexpected hug because he wasn't feeling stellar and Boss gave it readily, maybe too quickly, as if he was desperate himself for this touch, and he'll stop thinking about this right now.

Instead he focused on Stretch's breathing, his big sigh and the way he relaxed in Boss' hold. If he could be a comfort to Stretch, it was the least he could do. It's his fault, after all, that he can't dress himself. It's his fault that Stretch thinks a little too slowly, that he can't read or write, and while the last thing he wanted to do was infantilize or demean him in any way for his new disabilities, it was still undeniable that he wouldn't have these issues without Boss' screw up.

"I'm sorry. You're struggling because of me," Boss apologized, fingertips running gently over the back of Stretch's skull to encourage him to look up. "But I promise you I will be here every step of the way, no judgement or making fun of you."

Stretch looked up at him, wide eyelights, pure white, so soft and pure. There was something missing from his gaze, something sharp and...well, judgemental.

"better be careful, boss," Stretch said finally, chuckling as he pushed away slightly. "might start to think you have a crush on me."

* * *

"Do you need assistance?"

"no, no no, i got it," Stretch said impatiently, waving his hand as he squinted at his phone. The names he had gotten down, the list wasn't that long, he should be able to read it. "m'getting...a gift card for black. huh, tough crowd on that one, he hard to buy for?"

"Impossible," Boss agreed, snagging a gift card off the nearby display. With a nod from Stretch it went into the basket. "Next?"

"mutt is getting…" Stretch read the words, and then read the words again. He was pretty sure how to pronounce it, but damned if he had a clue what the fuck it was. "what's a...ding ding and mimi set?"

Boss chuffed out a laugh. "Something we will not be finding here. Fitting, though. I'll see about ordering one when we get home."

Stretch nodded, and he meant to go right back to the list, he really did…

"Who's next?" Boss asked, stopping to pull a barbecue sauce gift basket from the shelf. He certainly won't be going halfsies on a Ding Ding and Mimi set for Mutt, so he does need something else. "...Stretch?"

He turned, concerned that he heard no response.

...which would be because he was nowhere to be seen. Boss turned further, slightly more frantic, but no orange sweater could be seen amongst the wandering humans.

Okay, he took a breath, this was no time to panic. He's an adult, and he's not nearly as delicate as he used to be. He also hasn't been nearly as inflammatory as before, so he didn't really need to worry about him starting a fight. Still, losing his charge on their first outing wasn't exactly the most encouraging thing, and he'd much rather have him back in his sights.

Before the accident, it was hard enough to keep Stretch's attention in a store, so he probably should have kept a closer eye on him. Used to be that he would wander straight back to electronics and toys, so Boss angled himself in that direction.

Sure enough, amongst the toddler toys was Stretch, a huge display piano carpet beneath his feet. It quickly became clear that it was more than a rug, it was a responsive keyboard, and Stretch was grinning wide as he hopped around on it, for once not limited by his disobedient fingers as he banged out a simple tune.

He spotted Boss and oh, that smile was so inviting, he knew what he was going to ask before he asked.

"boss!"

"Oh, no," Boss chuckled, waving his hand and shaking his head. "I'm perfectly fine watching you play."

"no!" Stretch laughed, vacating the rug long enough to close the distance, closing clumsy hands around Boss' cardigan. "you gotta! i only know chopsticks!"

"And you should play it, it looks like you're having fun." Boss gripped Stretch's hands gently so he didn't stretch his sweater out, and if he let him steer him a little closer to the rug, neither of them mentioned it. "Really, I've never played with my feet, I'm not sure I'd be any good--"

"pleeeeease?" Stretch whined, tugging at him again. "it would make me  _ so _ happy."

Boss sighed, the long-suffering sort of sigh that informed Stretch he had won, and he allowed himself to be dragged over to the mat. "Alright, alright, quit grabbing. But I need you to help me."

"me? help you?" Stretch chuckled.

"Yes," Boss confirmed, turning to take him by the hands. "Stand over here. When I pull you, you are going to play down and up the scale as I direct, to my cadence. Do you understand?"

"yes!" stretch said, hovering below the starting point and looking up at him.

Boss looked back at his own feet, humming as he mapped out the width between each key. It would be a little bit harder to play this on this rug piano, but not impossible--lucky for him he has some long legs. He tapped a few keys to get an idea, and it seemed responsive enough, so light taps would be enough.

And he began, a slow pace as it was intended to be played, and when he pulled, Stretch followed, only stumbling a little bit until he understood the pattern. After a moment he heard a laugh.

"i know this one!" Stretch crowed, squeezing his hand as he rushed to play his part without guidance. "canon in d, written by pachelbel. how did i not remember this?" He looked up at Boss with a huge smile, and Boss felt a sense of satisfaction swell within his chest. "switch with me!"

He allowed Stretch to pull him over, taking over the slower-paced part as Stretch tried to keep up with the slightly faster one. Inevitably there was a hiccup, a bad note as he lost balance, and Boss was quick to catch him under the arms before he could hit the floor.

"That was amazing," Boss praised, and Stretch laughed, flushed with exertion as Boss placed him back on his feet.

"i should be saying that to you," he chuckled. "when we get home, will you play the piano for me?"

Boss smirked. "Maybe, if you're good and don't wander off again."

"don't wander off," Stretch echoed, reaching down and taking Boss' hand. "got it. lead the way."

Boss had to look away from that sunny smile, but he squeezed his hand anyway, a soft smile of his own forming as he shook his head, pulling him over to the cart and helping him grip the push bar in front of him, leaning over his shoulder.

"Who's next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww I bet by Gyftmas these boys're gonna be two peas in a pod.


	6. The One With the Gyftmas Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Gyftmas! Time for Stretch to re-meet his found family, and maybe stir up some memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for things to start happening~  
> When you have Amnesia, the best ways to get memories back is to do the things you used to do before you lost them!

"IS SOMETHING THE MATTER, PAPY?" Blue pried gently, setting a bowl of snacks on the coffee table. "YOU'VE BEEN SITTING THERE HOLDING THAT PRESENT SINCE BOSS LEFT."

Stretch hummed, and Blue reminded himself to give him a moment to respond. More than once he's talked right over him on accident, but he's really trying to be supportive. Still, it seems like Stretch greatly prefers Boss' company, often claiming "boss doesn't do it that way" if ever Blue does something not quite right. A minor annoyance, maybe a little hurtful, but understandable, as Boss spent hours poring over papers and techniques so he could be the most effective caregiver.

And...he wasn't the same person he was before, and the brother he was so used to caring for was gone. He didn't need the same things anymore.

"...boss wasn't on my list," Stretch said quietly, looking down at the neatly wrapped box. It was assumed Boss had wrapped it for him, that's what he'd been up to when Blue came home. "everyone else was on there, but not him. he doesn't seem so bad. how could i hate him so much? he's thoughtful, and, and he's kind, and he's patient."

Blue sighed. The mystery of Stretch's hatred of Boss had haunted all of them as long as they've known each other. It probably had something to do with Boss' attitude when he first got here, magnified by his high LV, but even so the hate never seemed to extend to others with similar issues, Black being a prime example.

"YOU'RE SURE HE WASN'T THERE? THERE ISN'T ANOTHER LIST?"

Stretch shook his head, holding out his phone for Blue to inspect. He took it, scrolling through the notes app. True, there didn't seem to be any more Gyftmas lists, and Boss wasn't on the one that was prominent. It was odd, because Stretch doesn't just not get things for people he doesn't like, he just gets them something terrible--so the fact that he had nothing in mind for Boss is strange.

"DO YOU MIND IF I READ THROUGH SOME OF THESE OTHER THINGS?" Blue asked, indicating the notes app. "PERHAPS IT'S SIMPLY BURIED?"

Stretch shrugged. They weren't his thoughts, after all, but rather a version of him he doesn't remember being. Blue turned his attention on the phone, tapping into a note here, a note there, until finally he spotted Boss' name in a note that was more of a rambling wall of text than a note or list.

"...what does it say?" Stretch asked, giving up after the first line.

"IT APPEARS TO BE A SERIES OF RAMBLINGS ABOUT BOSS," Blue hummed, scrolling through. "A FEW OBSERVATIONS, SOME NOTES. THIS IS PRETTY EXTENSIVE...PERHAPS YOU WERE STUDYING HIM TO PICK A GOOD GIFT? OR...MAYBE TO FIND THE GIFT THAT WOULD ANNOY HIM THE MOST, THAT'S A POSSIBILITY."

"observations...what kind? what did i discover?"

Blue sat beside him on the couch. "LET'S SEE. 'LIKES SPICY FOOD AND SOUR CANDY BUT HATES WARHEADS. WILL CHEW ON A PEN CAP WHEN HE'S THINKING. DRUMS FINGERTIPS WHEN HE IS BORED'--AND THEN IN PARENTHESES YOU HAVE: 'PIANO PLAYER' WITH FOUR QUESTION MARKS."

"he does play piano!" Stretch interjected. "i figured all that out? why would i go so far for someone i supposedly hated?"

"THAT I HAVE NO ANSWER FOR, I'M AFRAID." Blue handed him the phone back, standing. "BUT IF YOU ASK ME, MAYBE THIS IS A BOON. YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH BOSS MAY SEEM A LITTLE JARRING FOR THE REST OF US, BUT IT'S OBVIOUSLY DOING YOU LEAGUES OF GOOD TO HAVE HIM IN YOUR CORNER. PERHAPS IT'S TIME TO STOP WORRYING ABOUT WHAT HAS BEEN AND FOCUS ON WHAT COULD BE?"

Stretch slumped back against the couch, contemplating. True, it didn't seem like these memories would come back any time soon, not like the memory of the song they played together at the store. But honestly, is that so bad? To forget the way he felt about Boss in favor of new feelings?

...if they even are new. Because it doesn't feel so new to think about his arms around him.

* * *

"Are you ready to meet everyone again?" Boss asked as he buttoned Stretch's shirt, gently fixing his collar.

Stretch shrugged, picking at the bottom buttons as Boss picked up the sweater vest he'd asked to wear today. "i dunno, kinda feels like...maybe i won't live up to their expectations? like m'gonna ruin gyftmas by being clueless."

"Nobody blames you for not knowing everything," Boss reassured him, nudging his arms. He let Stretch wriggle into the sweater vest, helping only by holding it, and let him pull it down over his body. He'd probably straighten it later, but for now he only made sure the collar of his shirt folded over the vest. "I know you were hoping to remember more by now, but it isn't expected nor required."

Almost without thinking, he gave Stretch a gentle pat on the cheekbone, and the way Stretch's eyelights lit up gave him pause in drawing away. Stretch closed the distance, squeezing him into a hug, and Boss returned it, catching sight of his own small smirk in the mirror.

...the worry that his memories returning might make him hate him again was starting to become more of a...fear.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

* * *

It was a few hours yet until they arrived at Sans and Papyrus' house, gifts in tow and several covered dishes prepared by both Boss and Blue, and Stretch busied himself by trying to carry whatever anyone would allow him to carry, ferrying presents into the house and placing them under the tree. He sat by the tree, then, attempting to re-tie a bow he'd accidentally undone, remembering the doctor's advice and taking it much slower than he wanted to.

One loop, go around, tuck it through--

He failed to grasp the other side fast enough and the bow fell apart. He sighed, picking up the ribbon ends to try again. One loop, go around--

"I'VE GOT THAT, PAPY!" Blue exclaimed happily, pulling the present from his grasp. Stretch made a disgruntled noise as the ribbons slipped from his fingers. "YOU CAN GO HELP BOSS AND PAPYRUS SET UP THE BUFFET!"

"but…" Stretch trailed off. _i had it,_ he didn't say, best not to make a scene of it on Gyftmas, he was already bringing the mood down by making people watch him stumble over things. "...okay."

Blue kissed the top of his head before spinning away to bring the gift to the couch, and Stretch stayed a moment longer to watch the ribbon whizzing through his fingers.

"HELLO, STRETCH!"

Stretch startled at the sudden volume, as loud as his brother but definitely a different voice. He looked up from where he'd been slouching in the kitchen doorway to see a skeleton he vaguely recognized, close enough to his own face to make two guesses which one he is.

"...papyrus?" He offered, hey, it was a 50-50 chance and Boss had said Mutt wore a more edgy appearance. The reindeer sweater and antlers headband didn't exactly scream "fell-verse" monster.

"A WONDERFUL MEMORY!" Papyrus agreed, giving him a big hug. Stretch chuckled at the irony, his was certainly _not_ a wonderful memory but Papyrus' hug was warm and comforting, and he smelled like Gyftmas cookies. "ARE YOU GOING TO HELP US WITH DINNER?"

"...it's only noon."

"OH, WHO PAYS ATTENTION TO TIME ON GYFTMAS? COME, COME, OVER HERE, YOU CAN HELP BOSS WITH THE BUFFET TABLE!"

Boss looked up and a small smile met him, and Stretch relaxed. Yeah, spending some breathing time with Boss sounded like a good idea.

"Take this basket of rolls, please," Boss asked as he approached, handing it to him. "End of the table."

He did as he was told, only dropping one, and Papyrus' quick hands snatched it before it hit the ground, tucked it back in without a word about it being dropped. He went about his work, setting the cups of silverware, and Boss helped him curl his fingers around the handles of a crock pot so he could place that, too. When it was finished, Stretch gave Boss a smile, and was it his imagination, or did Boss' expression soften just a bit?

A gentle pat to the skull was his reward, and he leaned into it happily. Somehow Boss knows exactly what he wants, even if Papyrus was giving them an odd, contemplative look.

"ROOM FOR ONE MORE DISH?"

Stretch turned, expecting his brother, but was surprised to find...well, not his brother. Maybe, if his brother dressed in exclusively goth formal fashion and suddenly acquired a cracked socket not unlike Boss'.

"Black," Boss helpfully supplied, stepping around Stretch to accept the dish offered. "What did we make this time?"

"BARBEQUE CHICKEN. I WANTED TO MAKE SOMETHING BETTER, BUT MUTT HASN'T BEEN MUCH FOR FOOD LATELY AND I WANTED TO MAKE SURE HE EATS." Black's eyelights slid over to Stretch, curiosity sparkling, and Stretch began to wonder if maybe Black was nicer than he looked, just like Boss. "HELLO, STRETCH. HOW ARE WE FEELING LATELY?"

"feeling, uh...little sideways," Stretch laughed nervously, making a vague gesture in reference to his equilibrium. "nice to...well, nice to meet you all over again, i guess."

"LIKEWISE," he returned, removing his coat. "YOU SEEM WELL ENOUGH, NOT NEARLY AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS, IS IT? REGARDLESS, I HOPE FOR A SWIFT RECOVERY OF WHAT YOU CAN AND ACCEPTANCE OF WHAT YOU CANNOT."

"...yeah," Stretch said softly, unsure of how to answer that kindness.

Thankfully it was acceptable, and Black turned to Boss instead, and the two of them launched into a discussion about the menu for the evening. Boss paused only to give the chicken dish to him, politely asking him to find a place for it, and he accepted it without argument, causing a slight pause in the conversation as Black looked at him in surprise.

"WELL. THAT'S DIFFERENT." He said, slightly hushed, and the surprise only made Stretch more curious about his relationship to Boss before.

He put the dish down and looked around for something else he could do. There was a space for desserts at the end of the table, maybe he could put some of those out? Papyrus seemed to still be working on the cake but there was a basket of cookies and a tray of cupcakes. How hard could those be to carry?

He peeked into the basket of cookies, admiring the hand-piped ugly sweaters and trees. Papyrus certainly had a hand for decorating, Stretch wondered if maybe he would teach him once he got better at...well, everything.

Okay. One hand on one end, and he curled his fingers slowly around the handle. One hand on the other, curled fingers, he could--

His first step back missed the mark, and he wobbled. He'd never missed his sense of equilibrium more in his entire life than the moment he couldn't regain his balance, hands death-gripping the basket of cookies as he started to fall.

He huffed out a breath as he hit something solid, but it wasn't the floor, and he had a vague feeling of de'ja vu, a memory of falling flat on his tailbone and cookies flying everywhere, of crimson eyelights and--

"Are you alright, Stretch?" Boss asked gently, voice full of concern from behind him as he supported his weight with one arm, the other hand taking the basket, still full of only slightly jostled cookies, and handing it to Papyrus. "Goodness, that was almost a repeat of our first Gyftmas aboveground."

"...that was it," Stretch mumbled, casting his gaze to his now-empty hands. "that was why."

"What was why?" Boss asked, lowering himself to sit behind him. Stretch closed his eyes and breathed in his spiced apple scent, leaned into his warmth.

Stretch sighed, turning to him. "when i dropped the cookies i'd spent three hours frosting, and you laughed."

Boss' look of concern and confusion lifted into one of guilt. "...Is that why you hated me?"

"...maybe not all the reasons but it was the first," he mumbled, clumsily hugging himself. "i don't remember much except the feeling, the embarrassment? the way it made me think so clearly that i hated you, as if it were a death sentence on you. was i...like that all the time? holding grudges, being petty?"

"Can we go sit somewhere, and I'll tell you the whole story?" Boss offered, touching his hand lightly. "I think you'll understand yourself a little better if I do. And it will give me a chance to own up to the way I hurt you."

He stared at Boss' hand, conflicting feelings bubbling in his chest. If ever there was something he would actively wish to forget again, it would be that memory--it felt so cold, so completely different from the warmth Boss radiated recently.

Whatever happened before was important, even if he doesn't want it to be. But he can still choose to forgive where his past self could not.

"...yeah. yeah, let's sit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	7. The One With the Gyftmas Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch and Boss go over the resurfaced memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! If you don't celebrate Christmas, I still love you and hope you had a wonderful holiday or day!
> 
> Warnings: mentions of possible depression, mentions of trauma

* * *

~Two years ago~

* * *

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO MAKE SO MANY COOKIES, PAPY."

Stretch leaned back with a sigh, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He felt a smear of icing left behind, but he didn't care--maybe they weren't chocolate chip, but these were Mom's Gyftmas Cookies, how could he not share them with all the new family he had found?

"course i did. gyftmas cookies are for sharing."

"I KNOW, BUT I WOULD HAVE HELPED IF I'D KNOWN THERE WOULD BE SO MANY," Blue sighed, stripping off his apron. His share of the Gyftmas feast was all packed up and ready to go, ready to share with the new versions of themselves that had just come up to join them for the first ever Gyftmas aboveground. "DO YOU THINK BOSS AND RED WILL BE BRINGING A DISH? SHOULD WE LEAVE SOME ROOM?"

"they just got here," Stretch reasoned. "they ain't transitioned yet, an' sans says it might take a while with what they've been through. let's not put that pressure on them. make it look like we weren't expecting it so they don't feel bad if they didn't, yeah? and if they did they get to pleasantly surprise us."

"YOU'RE RIGHT, THAT MAKES MORE SENSE," Blue said, snagging a mitten-shaped cookie. He chuckled at the attempted patterning, the royal frosting running colors together into a marbled mess and gave his brother a teasing grin. "HMM. LET'S HOPE THESE TASTE BETTER THAN THEY LOOK."

"shut up, it's the thought that counts," Stretch chuckled, pulling the towel off his shoulder to whip Blue with it as he bolted from the kitchen laughing.

They'd only met the new skeletons a handful of times, and maybe they had high LV that made Stretch's bones shiver, but his dad had always taught him to look deeper.

And Mom had taught him that the fastest way to a monster's soul was through their stomach, and extended kindness.

* * *

Nothing had been easy since Boss and Red had come to the surface. Stripped of his title and forbidden the use of his magic, Boss was basically forced into house arrest in a government provided house that smelled of burnt cheese. There was no dream house, and their Frisk didn't visit much with them on lockdown pending a psychological evaluation. He was happy to finally get his evaluation, until they rolled out a two to three year plan for integration--claiming extensive trauma would prevent him from passing many of the evaluations necessary to transition into the work force. 

The idea that all their troubles would be gone once they were up here was a preposterous dream, and everything had gone downhill for Boss since.

Not Red, though. He was doing very well, basically paid to stay home and because of his unique judging abilities he already had a job. The only reason Boss didn't get up and head right back underground was because Red was thriving up here--he'd never make him go back, and leaving him was not even an option.

He met them through Red--the others. Sans and Papyrus, Stretch and Blue. He felt unnerved by the presence of other Judges, as if he may be Judged at any moment. Red would never, he knows, but he doesn't know these strangers. Still, he went along for Red's sake, some friends would do him some damn good and Boss could always just sit quietly by the door until he was ready to go. So far it had been a worthy strategy, but when invited to Gyftmas of all things he wasn't so sure he'd be able to get away with it all night.

So to say he was on edge the moment they walked through the door was an understatement. It was already too bright, too closed-in. Not enough exits, not enough space between others and him or others and his brother. He imagined that when present time came (though he had been helpfully informed that present giving was a tradition for this holiday, he had never celebrated such a holiday himself) it would be a claustrophobic mess of scattered wrapping paper and people smushed into seats beside each other.

No, thank you, he would die before he sat in a pile of garbage with Papyrus talking his skull off. This is for Red, not for him, so he'll find a way to stand.

"heya, boss man."

Boss did not startle, thank you, but he did bristle at the lackadaisical tone as Stretch appeared at his elbow, a covered basket in his hands and a ghastly sweater proclaiming him a "Mistletoe Champion".

"CAN I HELP YOU?" He snapped, widening his stance. He wasn't about to back away but be damned if he was going to appear small. He regrets not wearing his tall boots today, because without them Stretch is taller than him, looking down just slightly with amusement.

"lean down. grab stick. remove it from ass," Stretch supplied. "it's gyftmas."

"WE DON'T HAVE ASSES, WE'RE SKELETONS," Boss huffed, crossing his arms.

"oh, pedantic _and_ prickly. don't worry, edgelord, nobody here wants to kill ya. look, brought cookies as a peace offering and everything," he said, holding up the basket.

His smile was probably meant to be endearing, but it only came off as smug. Or maybe Boss is only in a bad mood, it's hard to tell.

"I HATE COOKIES," he lied. What possessed him to lie, he'll never know--it was a nice gesture, but something in him couldn't help but wonder if all this niceness and talk of "family" was simply a way to get him to let his guard down, and if it was, he wasn't to be fooled.

Or again, said a quiet voice, maybe he's just in a bad mood.

Because he'd been in a permanent bad mood since the day they surfaced. Since they took his title, since they all but called him crazy. This world didn't want him and he was well on his way to not wanting it anymore, either. If it weren't for his brother he might have crawled back underground, but even Red was adjusting just fine, leaving him in the dust and making him think that maybe he would never catch up.

The idea of going to bed and simply never waking up again was starting to sound almost appealing.

So maybe he was taking it out on Stretch. From what he'd seen, the lazier version of himself was a sharp tongue wrapped in wrinkled clothes, and he gave more insults than compliments--that was a language that Boss understood, and all his seething anger at his inadequacy wanted to speak it with haste.

"fine, whatever," Stretch shrugged. "they're just cookies. don't gotta bite my head off."

Boss crossed his arms to keep from reaching out after him as he walked away. In any case, escaping to the kitchen seemed the best way to avoid the mistletoe that Blue was hanging everywhere, so he followed the easy sway of Stretch's gait into the kitchen.

"if y'don't like cookies, maybe--shit!"

Boss watched as Stretch's untied shoe became his literal downfall, leading him to teeter off balance and fall right on his tailbone, the basket tumbling through the air. Hideous cookies flew out in every direction around a stunned Stretch, breaking and bouncing and rolling across the floor as he stared at the ceiling.

Silence. It was the most sincere silence Boss had ever experienced, one full of shock and disbelief.

And holy fuck, was it _funny_.

It was as if a fog had lifted, a weight from Boss' shoulders and maybe it wasn't nice to laugh over ruined cookies but by God it was so absurd an image when juxtaposed against the world he so desperately wanted back, and it made him realize that maybe he didn't have his title but he finally had a _family_ , like the kind in the sitcoms he used to watch with his Undyne, and it was so ridiculous a concept that he couldn't help but laugh.

So he laughed. It was a rusty noise, it cracked like old rubber and he found himself coughing a bit, so unused to the feeling, but he had no choice but to let it out.

It was too late by the time he realized Stretch was glaring at him, he was too far into the laughter to stifle it. He could somewhat see, between fits of laughter, that he had slowly stood, wiped the crumbs from his sweater, and left the room at a healthy clip, the stomp of his shoes giving away his displeasure.

When it finally died down, he knelt to pick up the pieces. They weren't perfect, most were broken but even before the breaks they weren't masterpieces. But Stretch had made them with love and he felt bad for so swiftly dismissing him only for all his hard work to go to waste.

He made a mental note to apologize later for his reaction, but somehow, it didn't cross his mind again.

* * *

~Today~

* * *

The porch was chilly as they finished speaking their pieces, and Stretch smiled a little as Boss placed his own jacket over Stretch's shoulders to stay his shivering.

"I began my transition therapy shortly after Gyftmas that year. I learned a lot about myself, and even apologized for some things, but I think...you had already decided how you felt about me," Boss said, tapping his fingers on the porch banister anxiously. "It didn't matter how much we both changed, you already hated me, and your insults always managed to hit me where it would hurt most that day. I would get fired up back and be just as rude, which in turn gave you more reason to dislike me. It was the first of many, _many_ sour interactions."

The memory was much clearer now, and Stretch nodded, remembering how upset he'd been to see the cookies broken. The laughter was a cutting memory, at the time it had felt like all his good will and effort to reach out had been dashed and stepped on. It hit deeper than that, too, he realized, like an insult on his mother herself.

But it was also set in misunderstanding, bathed in Boss' self-proclaimed traumas and colored red for no reason other than the aftershocks of a bad life. He had said himself he'd been to and was still in therapy and it seemed like Stretch had never been the most functional person either. 

"...kinda glad we got a second chance at a first impression," Stretch said quietly, looking out over the porch banister at the fresh snow. "it...isn't a fun memory, you know? but it's not so black and white to go through it this time, with you. an' i have a lot of examples that you're different now."

He turned to him, and he watched Boss' expression soften. His memories of before were sparse, but he's certain of the way that look made him feel. Happy, a little surprised, a little confused that he was so happy, but mostly it was a face that made him feel secure and cared for.

"i hope i'm different now, too," he added, leaning heavily against Boss, who seemed relieved. His hugs were less stiff than they were when they started out ten days ago, less wary, more trustful. "i hope it's okay that i'm different."

"It is," Boss said quietly, pulling him in tighter. "I've often wished we could start over. I've often looked at you and wondered if we could have been friends, if I had just had a cookie that day or been a little less inside my own head. I didn't know they meant so much to you."

"tibia-nest, they weren't the _real_ mom's cookies," Stretch admitted. "now chocolate chip, if i had gotten those right and you'd laughed at those? now _that_ would be bad."

Boss chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, your humor certainly hasn't changed. Terrible puns, as ever."

"it's your pun-ishment," Stretch laughed, pushing back just enough to smile up at him. "eehhh?"

"As I said, _terrible,"_ Boss laughed back. "Are we still friends?"

"still friends..." Stretch echoed, playing with a button on his sleeve and looking down. "...i sure hope we are."

"Good," Boss said, squeezing him again before letting him go. "I meant what I said about wanting to start over. Now let's get you inside before you catch a cold."

Stretch nodded, turning to head back into the house with Boss hot on his heels.

He didn't notice Boss hesitate, he missed him reaching out, didn't see him pause...didn't see him shake his head and step in after him.

Stepping past the mistletoe hanging above the door without a word, they went back to the Gyftmas party as if nothing had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Boss was less adjusted than he could have been that first year.


	8. The One With the Chinese Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch needs to go to therapy in order to recover.  
> But he isn't the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is like chihuahuas on a leash going in 80 different directions so I'm gonna try to reign it in haha
> 
> Warnings: mentions of trauma and therapy, negative self-image

"You're going to freeze your toes off out here."

Stretch chuckled, drawing the snow chunks with both hands to meet in the middle, slowly patting it into a somewhat-ball-shaped lump with great concentration. "numb toes, whatever will i do? my fingers will be jealous."

He heard steps on the porch, then clunking against the wooden stairs, and finally Boss was behind him, draping a coat over his shoulders. The warmth radiated from Boss' body and Stretch instinctively leaned back into him, finally tearing his eyes from his lopsided creation to look up at his caretaker where he stood looking down at him.

"Good morning," he chimed, before leaning down to push a knit cap onto his skull. Stretch allowed it, giving a groan of displeasure, but it was warm as Boss was so he didn't try to remove it.

"morning, chief," he responded. "what's the word for when you make a fort out of snow?"

"A snow fort?" Boss asked, raising a brow at him.

Stretch rolled his eyelights and turned back to his snowball. "haha. funny. no, i mean with the blocks of ice and stuff."

"Ah. An igloo."

The snow crunched as Edge sat beside him, tucking his long coat beneath the seat of his pants.

"yes! an igloo. i remembered a bunch of stuff about them while i was making this snow lump, yeah? but i forgot the name. couldn't remember that." He held up his lumpy snow oval, and Boss took it with pretend appraisal in his eyes. "did you know igloos are crazy warm? not as warm as like, a house, but they were meant for shelter on long trips. the warmth comes from the combined body heat inside and even though it's still negative seven degrees, it's better than negative forty plus wind outside."

"I didn't know that," Boss hummed, handing him back his snowball. "But I do know you've been convincing Blue to let you skip your therapy visits."

Stretch huffed, his demeanor shifting visibly as he curled into himself and looked away, scraping snow off the edges of the snowball. "...he snitched on me."

"He wants you to like him," Boss said calmly. "And so he caves easily. One or two, he figured wasn't an issue, but it's been three or four now so he came to me. He says he's too weak to say no, but I am not. I took the liberty of rescheduling your physical and academic therapy, so we are going today."

"no."

Boss looked up at him with a raised brow. "I'm sorry, what?"

"no," Stretch repeated, tossing his snowball to break across the ground. "i don't want to, and i'm an adult who can decide for himself, thanks. i don't wanna be poked and prodded and probed and told i'm not good enough, thanks, you can keep it."

"You can decide for yourself, that's true," Boss groaned, standing and dusting snow off of his coat. "But I'd like you to make the right choice."

"it's better not to go," Stretch argued, crossing his arms over his chest, where the cold was starting to set in. "i don't feel so dumb if i don't go."

"You are not dumb." Boss flicked the back of his skull and Stretch made a noise of indignation. "Am I dumb for being blind in my left socket?"

Stretch looked up at him, at the long cracks running over his left socket, the eyelight that he'd never realized was slightly fuzzy.

"...blind?" He echoed, standing and dusting the snow off himself.

Boss only looked him right in the sockets, a serious look on his face. "Yes. Blind. Am I stupid for being blind? Is it my fault my injury resulted in me being blind?"

"no," Stretch insisted. "but that isn't fair, that's different--"

"Is it?" Boss asked, crossing his arms. "I had to relearn spatial awareness or else I would die. I had to learn how to listen on my left side for people approaching me. I had to train my reflexes on my left side to be more responsive to sound, and I had to learn how to walk and act as if I wasn't blind at all. True, my situation was more dire, but it isn't any different than what you are doing. I tell you, I felt very, very dumb for being startled by my own hand at times, but if I had given up on learning it all I wouldn't be here with you today. I would be dust, plain and simple. So am I dumb for being blind?"

"...no," he mumbled, looking down at his feet. "but it's different to learn new things than to relearn things you already knew."

Gentle, but firm, Boss took his face in his hands and coaxed him to look up at his determined eyelights. "I'd like to hear you play that guitar in your room someday. Don't give up on learning how."

"...only if you'll play a piano for me," Stretch pressed, a sly grin on his face. "please?"

"You're on that again?" Boss chuckled, squeezing his face gently before letting him go. "Go to your therapy sessions and you will be able to play with me. That is my condition."

"whaaat, you can't add conditions to my condition," Stretch whined, leaning against Boss' chest. "that isn't fair."

"It's very fair. All I wish for is for you to get your control back. I want you to be able to do all the things that frustrate you when I have to help, so you have to go. Understood?"

"...i want honey prawns for dinner," Stretch huffed, turning to walk in the door.

"And where am I supposed to get fresh prawns in the middle of winter?" Boss chuckled as he followed him in.

* * *

Boss pulled into the driveway of his home, collecting the Tupperware of leftovers from his venture into cooking Chinese food. The door was bolted tight, as always, but with his approach he heard the locks clicking, almost as if the house itself knew who he was and welcomed him home.

"I'm home," Boss called out, setting the Tupperware on the coffee table. He sighed and collected the containers that were already there, still untouched from last night's offering. "You didn't eat again."

"ordered a pizza."

Boss looked pointedly at Red, who lay curled on the couch, still visibly tired despite being apparently asleep most times Boss sees him.

"Pizza isn't nothing, but I leave these for you so you get something homemade into your system."

"didja get the honeybuns to therapy?" Red grunted, ignoring the food argument.

"Yes. The doctor said he bit someone, but in his defense he did tell them to stop touching him twice first." Boss cleared a spot, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. "And you? Did you make it to your appointment today?"

"zoom call," Red shrugged. "doc said i should eat. and probably...talk to him."

"So another two hours and you get the same advice you aren't going to take?" Boss asked, deadpan. "It's good advice, Red. You need to face him."

Red didn't respond, eyelights sliding over to the TV where reruns of the Twilight Zone were playing. Boss sighed.

"I am going to get you a fork. I want you to eat the food while it's still warm this time."

* * *

It was deep into the night when Boss awoke, uncharacteristically bleary-eyed as he cast his gaze around the room.

The living room, because he refuses to sleep in bed until Red sleeps in his own. He looked down to where his brother lay tucked against his chest, the only way to get him to close his eyes lately. There's nothing he wouldn't give to take Red's demons away, and he had to admit that the thought had popped up once or twice to have Sans get rid of Red's Judge, too. He knows that Black had been thinking the same for Mutt--the nightmares can't be worth the pay.

But Red and Mutt have more LV than Stretch did. There's a higher risk factor with them, and Boss wished that Red was half as responsive to therapy as Boss himself was.

Being at Stretch's house most hours of the days was nice, a brief reprieve where he could be someone new, someone fun and fresh. He got paid to do it but he didn't get paid for the real work, the work he puts in at home taking care of his brother. At least working with Stretch, he has ample time in the day to check in on Red and it's only right down the street--Boss struggled with transitioning, true, he has his own issues and traumas he is working out with his own counselor. But to be frank he flubs some of his tests on purpose, too worried about doing any job he can't leave at a moment's notice if Red needed him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder of what had woken him, and he slipped it out to check his messages.

A chuckle escaped him. Just Stretch, texting him at three in the morning to tell him about how he just remembered where he keeps his candy stash. The words were slightly wrong--using voice to text, likely, and the image of Stretch whispering at his phone and not knowing how much of it was right was amusing.

"...s'he different now?"

Boss looked down at his brother, still appearing asleep but he knew better. "Different how?"

"did i ruin 'im?"

Boss hummed, reaching down to tuck the throw blanket over both of them better. "No, you did not  _ ruin  _ him. He's different, yes, very sweet and thoughtful. He's still stubborn, though, as a mule."

"...i wanna forget, too," Red said quietly. The dull glow of his eyelights appeared, stark in the low light. "i want it gone. but m'too afraid of which part'a me would survive."

"It's too dangerous," Boss agreed, a hand on the back of Red's skull to bring him back to his chest. "Until we know more, I can't get rid of your nightmares."

"it ain't yer job," Red grumbled, but he closed his sockets again anyway. "...but this is pretty effective, too."

He waited a beat. Two beats.

After a minute he felt Red relax, the whistling snore a sign he had finally given in to rest. His seemingly permanent scowl-grin dropped, a rare sense of calm and trust settling over him with the knowledge that Boss was right here to watch his back.

"...It  _ is _ my job," Boss disagreed, looking up at the ceiling. "Just not the one I get paid for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all are enjoying this story!


	9. The One With the Croissant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boss may be taking care of Stretch, but he still has therapy of his own to attend, and therapy always digs up the root of the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but I've had so much going on these last few weeks, some very good (like a promotion) and some very bad,, including dealing with a death of a family member recently so all of my works have been inching along slowly in my documents.  
> I hope everyone is having a Happy New Year
> 
> Warnings: therapy, imposter syndrome, anxiety, working out Boss' issues, discussion of consent and power imbalance

The clinic was always empty this time of day, the sun sinking down beneath the surrounding buildings, but Boss quite prefers it when there's less people cluttering the lobby and the waiting room.

His therapist was an aging man named John, with kind eyes and a weathered wedding ring polished by worrying fingers over the years. His office was decorated simply with a handful of pictures of his wife and nephews. No children, he had told Boss once, though the why had never quite come to him. In Boss' opinion it was really none of his business, but he did wonder what could stop someone with so much kindness from passing it on.

"How are things with your new job?" John asked, looking over his glasses at him. "I know you've been struggling with your inability to join the workforce, has this helped the negative thoughts go away?"

"It helps to have another income," Boss agreed, his hands folded neatly in his lap. "And it helps that it's family, and so close to home. It isn't what I expected, though."

John hummed, leaning back in his own chair. "How so?"

"Well, to be frank, I expected it to be a nightmare," he chuckled. "Stretch and I get along like baking soda and vinegar on the best of days. Or at least, we used to...it seems like we get along better than he and his own brother now. He's kind, and thoughtful, a little naive but also startlingly wise at times."

"A good change, then?"

Boss hummed, looking down at his hands. "...I'm not sure. It's nice that he usually does what I ask, and it's nice that we don't fight all the time. But I worry that maybe...he still feels the same, deep down."

"As if maybe, he is keeping it to himself out of a sense of duty and gratitude?" John asked. "You worry that he is only this way because you're caring for him."

"...right on the money, as always," he chuckled.

It was something they'd discussed before, the fear that any kindness shown to him was out of a sense of duty, fear, or propriety. When he'd begun his sessions with John, he'd resisted the idea that he treated Red badly, only to find that was exactly what he had done and Red had only gone along with every horrid word because Boss provided protection, safety, and home. With Red's HP he had always just taken it on the chin for the sake of surviving, something they have been parsing out in small quantities and group sessions over the years, limited by Red's stubborn insistence that Boss has nothing to apologize for.

The fear was there, that Stretch was only pretending to like him because of the inherent power Boss holds being his caregiver. He worries that fear rules their relationship, that Stretch is only being kind because Boss is helping him.

"Is it wrong of me to assume that you might hold feelings for Stretch?"

Boss felt his face flush as he looked up swiftly, bristling slightly in embarrassment. "I, well, that is...I don't know what you mean."

"Correct me if I'm wrong,but every time we talk about Stretch recently, it's all very positive. Your posture changes, and you smile more. Before the accident, any time we spoke of him it was as if you'd eaten something sour, but now it's like I've just offered you your favorite candy." John leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling knowingly. "Is it fear of your power in the relationship that keeps you from recognizing these feelings?"

Boss hummed, looking out the window over the nearby park. Stretch sat there, on a bench where he had left him to wait, and he got up to walk over to the window and pulled the sheer curtain aside to look at him more properly.

He'd bought him a croissant, in the hopes he'd eat it, but looked like the soft-hearted man had felt bad for the birds with little food, as he was tearing pieces off it to feed to the growing number of cardinals and winter wrens surrounding him. They pecked at the snowy ground and hopped around his feet, and Boss could almost hear him talking to them, telling them to wait their turn as if they understood English, and he chuckled.

"Feelings are irrelevant. I only want him to get better. I want to see him smile more, to see him happy." Boss let the curtain fall back into place. "I'm his friend now, but I'm also his caregiver. If I made a move on him, wouldn't that put pressure on him to say yes, even if he didn't want to? Would he feel as if he owed me? As much as I may want him, I don't want that."

"Consent is very important, and being on unequal footing can compromise it," John agreed. "Have you spoken with him about these thoughts? Being clear in your motives and your wish for consent?"

"Heavens no," Boss chuckled, grasping his hands together as he turned back to the couch. "I think I'd much rather eat a cactus than talk about my feelings. As you know."

"Do you think that's very fair?"

"To him?" Boss asked.

"To yourself."

Boss paused, squeezing his hands together as he thought on that. "...I'm not sure. I'm not even sure what I feel for him is romantic or platonic. I can't tell if it's happiness at finding a true friend or...something more. Or if it's just the amount of time together, or just guilt. I think it'd be a disservice to tell him how I feel if it turns out I'm wrong."

"That seems sound," John said, leaning back in his chair. "Perhaps you should explore your feelings deeper?"

Boss shook his head. "I'm not so sure I want to."

"And why is that?"

"I...I'm not good for him. I'm dangerous, my LV is... _so_ high, and only one hit from me, even with higher HP that he has now, would destroy him. What if I lose myself one day?"

"Do you think knowing you cared for him would increase the chance of that happening?" John asked. "Currently you are spending about as much time together as any married couple. Do you still think he is in danger from your presence?"

"Well...I guess you have a point." Boss fidgeted with his fingertips. "Maybe I was the wrong person to look after him."

"That isn't what I meant," John chuckled, standing from his chair. "I think all feelings are worth exploring, Papyrus. If you understand yourself, you can begin to make the changes you want to see. It's worked thus far with your brother, hasn't it?"

Boss smiled wryly. It was true, his relationship with Red was leagues better now than it had ever been, just from understanding and changing his behavior.

"...I will think on it." He reached out to shake John's outstretched hand. "Thank you again, John. Have a lovely weekend and say hello to the missus."

"I always do," John promised.

* * *

"I gave you that croissant to feed yourself, not the birds."

Stretch looked up at Boss with bright eyelights, smiling wide from beneath the many birds perched on his outstretched arms. And legs. And head. And any semi-flat surface they could sit on.

"but it's so cold! where are they gonna get their food?"

Boss chuckled, the puffy jacket he was wearing rising and falling with his shoulders in a shrug. "They're winter birds. They eat nuts and berries and whatever else. They know how to get what they need, unless people keep feeding them so they never learn how to do it themselves."

Stretch smiled sheepishly. "...oops?"

Boss stepped closer, and in a flurry of wings, all his new bird friends took off into the chilly winter air. He watched them flutter off, scattering into the sparse park trees.

"I suppose I'm too scary for your birds," he sighed, sitting beside him on the bench. "And you? Am I too scary?"

"too scary? no, you're the best!" Stretch answered, and Boss noted the lack of hesitation with faint pride before he even registered the compliment. "who else is gonna buy me croissants to feed the birds with? blue just says i can't live off bread and gives me something lame, like a salad or green beans."

"Hmm, so I _shouldn't_ make shepherd's pie for dinner tonight?" Boss asked, smirking over at him as he gave a look of disbelief. "Well, since you've decided to live off croissants…"

"noooo! i want the pie!" Stretch whined, leaning on him and tugging on his sleeve. "please! you cook so much better than blue!"

"Don't let him hear you say that," Boss laughed, gently removing his hands from his arm. "If we want shepherd's pie, we need to go to the grocery store. Are you up for it?"

"...can we also get some more honey?" Stretch asked, standing with him and trying his best to look cute. Looking cute seemed to get him what he wanted with Boss, and to his delight he got an amused smirk.

Boss turned, jerking his head so he would follow. "If you're good, we can get whatever you want. Come on, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boss suffers from imposter syndrome, thinking none of the kindness and love he receives is deserved


	10. The One Where It's Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine’s Day, if only barely. 2am is the proper time for deep conversation, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been too distracted to work on this one! Also sorry that the Valentine's chapter is a day late...lol.
> 
> Warnings: nightmares, PTSD, slight gore mention, accidental self-harm during a panic, hurt/comfort

There wasn't much about Valentine's Day that had ever really interested Boss. It hadn't existed in his underground, and it seemed a sort of cheap retail holiday on the surface. Not to mention that Boss had little to no interest in dating, and if you put it all together it makes for what Stretch used to call a "love scrooge".

Not that Stretch even remembers calling him that, but it happened all the same. So, when all the hearts and kiss marks went up around the beginning of February, he actually hardly even noticed it. Too busy with his shopping list, with making sure Stretch got everything he needed or wanted, too distracted into his own head calculating expenses to stretch it out until next paycheck--he could never seem to tell Stretch no lately, and whether it was the guilt, the sense of responsibility, or his supposedly-obvious crush, he can’t even tell anymore.

“what’s all this?”

“What’s all what?” Boss asked, distracted, squinting at the ingredients on the soup in his hand.

“this.” Stretch tugged on his sleeve, and he looked up to see him gesturing to a wall lined with Valentine’s candy and gifts. “this a new anniversary section or somethin’?”

“No, it’s for Valentine’s Day,” he corrected him. “It’s on the 14th of February, and it’s a day to express affection for others. Usually it’s a day for couples, but some see it as a friendship celebration, as well.”

“oh, like mate’s day?” He asked, following Boss down the aisle as he moved on.

“I have no idea what that is, but probably,” Boss chuckled. “If you want any soups, now’s the time.”

Stretch shook his head, no to the soups, it seemed. “you didn’t have mate’s day in your underground?”

“We didn’t have a whole lot that you all did,” he admitted. “Anything joyful was dubious. Anything gift-giving, not to be trusted. It wasn’t like it is up here.”

“that’s awful.”

“It was, but,” Boss said, stopping the cart and turning to him. “I’m here with you, now, aren’t I?”

Stretch ducked and maybe it was a trick of the light but it looked as if he blushed lightly. "not much of an upgrade, babysitting me."

"You have absolutely no idea how far from the truth that is," Boss said swiftly. He took Stretch's hand, surprising even himself by initiating contact first. He squeezed it, and Stretch squeezed back. "I'd take a soggy sandwich over my underground any day, but to have what I do now is...well, I often worry I'm still in Underfell, just dreaming. If that gives you an idea. And believe it or not, even when we didn't get along, you have always been a part of that happiness."

"...now i'm  _ really  _ gonna think you have a crush on me," Stretch teased, and Boss felt his face grow warm.

He dropped his hand and chuckled, shaking his head. "Let's get moving, you'll need the time to look through the cereals."

"you got it, boss," Stretch hummed.

Boss didn't miss the affection in his tone, and he hurried on down the aisle before he could say something stupid.

* * *

It was Valentine’s Day, if only barely. Boss snapped awake swiftly, his clock telling him it was only barely 2am.

Red stirred on the other end of the couch, and Boss grabbed his phone to swiftly silence the ringing that had woken him before it woke Red as well. Blue's number blinked on the screen, and he groaned as he stood from the couch, crackling like firewood as he straightened and popped his back and hit answer.

"What's the matter?" He said, concern quickly replacing his sleepiness. Blue wouldn't call at two in the morning if it weren't important.

_ "I NEED YOU TO COME HERE, PAPY HAD A NIGHTMARE AND I CAN'T CONSOLE HIM,"  _ Blue sighed tiredly on the other end.  _ "HE KEEPS JUST ASKING FOR YOU, WE'VE GONE THROUGH THREE CUPS OF COCOA AND I'VE TRIED TO EXPLAIN THAT YOU CAN'T COME OVER AT 2AM--" _

"I'm on my way," Boss answered sharply. "You can tell him I'll be there in ten minutes."

Blue seemed surprised, but grateful, and the call ended quickly. He made sure to drag a blanket over Red, laying a hesitant hand on his skull as he muttered an explanation of where he was going. Even if he wasn't awake, he'd probably retain the information--he's always been good at that, somehow.

It was cold enough to be tempting to take the car, but not necessary--Stretch and Blue only lived at the other end of the street, and he hustled over there within the promised ten minutes.

A very haggard Blue answered the door, sleepless and, first the first time that Boss had ever seen, not smiling.

"THANK GOD. HE'S IN THE LIVING ROOM," Blue explained, standing aside so he could come in. "I CAN'T GET ANYWHERE NEAR HIM WITHOUT HIM GETTING WORSE, SO YOU'RE UNFORTUNATELY ON YOUR OWN."

"I'm sorry, that must be hard," Boss consoled him as he followed him in. "I'll see what this is about. You go back to bed."

Blue sighed, running a hand over his skull and glancing toward the living room. It was clear he wasn't happy with needing Boss to handle it, but he seemed to begrudgingly accept that he simply wasn't what Stretch needed right now.

"...OKAY."

Boss didn't stop to watch him go, but rather made his way further in, into the living room, and at first he didn't see Stretch at all, which was cause for alarm--

\--until the pile of blankets on the couch made a pitiful noise, and he realized it was quivering slightly.

"Stretch?" He said softly, stepping closer and kneeling beside the couch. "Blue said you were asking for me, so I'm here."

He peeled back the layers of blanket until finally he found the skeleton inside, curled up absurdly small. His sockets were shut tight, his hands over his skull as if to protect himself as he shuddered. He smelled of honey-sweet sweat, and further removing the blanket revealed sweat-sticky pajamas.

"Stretch," Boss repeated, trying to keep his voice low and non-threatening. "Look at me. If you keep your eyes closed, all you'll see is the nightmare."

It seemed as though he wasn't getting through at all, Stretch's labored breathing and whimpers not slowing or stuttering. Gently, Boss covered Stretch's hands with his own, prying them away from his head and grimacing at the scratch marks left behind. At the touch the quivering stopped and when he looked back, he was met with wide sockets and shaky white eyelights.

"There, see?" Boss hummed, holding both of Stretch's hands in his own. "It's just me."

"s-sans," Stretch said softly. "did you see him? when you came?"

Boss nodded. "Yes, he answered the door."

"did he…" Stretch swallowed with difficulty, ducking his head to rub his sweaty brow on the blankets as his hands were occupied. "did he, uh, have his head?"

"...Yes. Yes, he had his head," Boss reassured him. "Could you not see it?"

Stretch shook his head. "no! he was just...bleeding, everywhere, no head!"

Well, that explains why Blue couldn't get near him without making it worse.

"I promise he had a head, even though to you it looked as if he didn't," Boss said slowly, releasing a hand to gently wipe the tears that were forming at the corners of Stretch's sockets. "I know it seemed very real, but I need you to look at me--there you are, hello. It was not real. Alright?"

"...wasn't real. o-okay," he breathed, leaning heavily on the hand Boss had on his cheek. "can...i know i'm probably all gross and sweaty but, can you hold me?"

"A little sweat never hurt anyone," Boss soothed, and Stretch moved as he did, making room for him to fold in beside him. He pulled him in, and Stretch held him tightly, pressing his face into Boss' rumpled nightshirt. "It must have been awful to see."

Stretch nodded against his chest. "he...just kept bringing me cocoa, all bloody and headless? so i kept drinking it, thinking that's what he wanted, but it wouldn't stop, wouldn't go away."

"Sometimes nightmares bleed into reality," Boss murmured, disguising his worry. It sounded like a memory of the resets in Underswap, but...without the Judge, he shouldn't remember those...should he?

"so i just screamed for you, i yelled for you and you wouldn't come, he just kept coming--" Stretch inhaled deeply, trying to calm the rattling of his bones. "but then you did come and he went away."

"Blue called me because you kept asking for me," he said, tracing his fingertips down over Stretch's arm. "I promise, everything is alright, it was only a bad nightmare."

After a few minutes, the shaking subsided, and Stretch's breathing evened out. Boss reluctantly let him go when he moved to sit up, wiping at the tears and sweat. Wordlessly, Boss snagged a tissue from the coffee table and gently took over, one hand barely touching Stretch's chin, tipping his head up so he could get the worst of it.

Funny how four months ago, Boss never would have even considered this moment was a possibility. The gentle softness they shared day in and day out would have seemed preposterous to him not even half a year ago, and having a  _ crush _ on Stretch, well, that was firmly in fantasy land.

...though, now that he thought about it, it wasn't as if he would have been opposed to it, if Stretch had kissed him before all this. In the heat of the moment, in times they were arguing, he'd thought about it, more than once.

If he kissed him now, he's sure that Stretch would lean into it. He'd kiss him back, hard, and who knows where it would go from there? But he's hurting, he's vulnerable, and he's trusting Boss to take care of him, not take advantage of him.

So, back down goes the urge to kiss him, stuffed down Boss' throat as he leans away, releasing his face.

"We should get you cleaned up," he offered, and Stretch nodded. He stood, offering his hand, and Stretch took it, but didn't release it when he stood. He just kept looking at Boss, with those wide sockets and that vulnerable, openly emotional face as they went up the stairs. 

By now it was routine, stripping him of dirty clothes, sitting outside the bathroom while he showered, listening intently for any sign that he had slipped in the water, and helping him into a clean pair of pajamas after he was dry.

"You're getting very good at dressing yourself," Boss pointed out as Stretch pulled on a pair of pants by himself. "And I've seen you playing the piano tiles game, you're getting faster at that, too. Pretty soon you won't need me anymore."

Stretch hummed, not nearly as excited about the praise as he usually would be. But then, it was early in the morning, and he'd just gone through hell, so perhaps it was circumstantial.

"I was thinking," Boss continued as he helped him into a soft long-sleeve shirt, hoping if he kept positive that it would rub off. "Since you're becoming independent so quickly--"

"if i tell you something, will you promise not to be mad?"

Boss paused, looking back at Stretch, who covered his torso with crossed arms and looked away. 

"...Of course you can." Boss laid a hand gently on Stretch's shoulder. "You can tell me anything."

"i'm...i've been kinda pretending?" Stretch said softly. "not, not everything, i still have memory issues, i still can't read above 6th grade level, still have issues with equilibrium and stuff. but i...i can dress myself, i can do a lot of the things that you help me with. not, like... _ amazingly _ but enough that i don't really need another set of hands."

That...was an interesting admission. Boss didn't really know how to respond, how does he respond to that?

"...Alright. Well, hmm...may I ask why you hid that from me?" Boss asked gently. "I would have been nothing but proud."

"yeah, but, uh...thing is, i was...scared?" Stretch admitted, sitting on the edge of his bed. "i was scared that...if i got better, you would leave me. that you wouldn't take care of me anymore."

"Oh." Boss sat beside him, brows knit in confusion. "But...I don't understand. The  _ goal _ is for you not to need me."

"but i do," Stretch said quickly, looking up at him with wide sockets. "i need you. but not, you know, not just for...the appointments and the helping with my stuff? i need you because you make me feel  _ good, _ and you make me happy, but i was more than aware that this was a duty to you and i was afraid that if i didn't need you as a caregiver anymore than you wouldn't stick around--"

"Alright, alright, just relax," Boss cooed, holding his hands up to cut him off, and Stretch's breathing was coming in quick huffs of air as he cut off, nearly working himself back up into a panic. "Firstly, you aren't a  _ duty _ or a  _ job, _ you're my friend. You said you wanted to be friends, and we are--do you think I would be the kind of person to leave a friend behind just because I'm not getting a paycheck to hang out with them?"

"...no," Stretch conceded. He shook his head. "but that's...i don't just want friends like the way i am with everyone else. if you aren't taking care of me anymore then there's no more breakfast every morning, no more grocery shopping together, no more spending all day together. it won't be the  _ same. _ "

"I like spending time with you, too," Boss reassured him, settling his hand over Stretch's on the bedspread. "It doesn't have to change if you don't want it to, we can still hang out that much. And there's still work to be done yet even if you're more independent than you've seemed."

"it's not the same," he repeated, withdrawing his hand to cover his face. "it's not. i want something more than that but i'm afraid to ask you."

"Why?" Boss asked simply, scooting closer. "Why would you want to need me forever? Don't you want to get better? To play the piano with me?"

"yeah, yeah i do, but i…" Stretch sighed, and his hands went back to cradling his skull. Boss was quick to stop him, the scratches still fresh from earlier, and he held his hands instead, settled between them slightly. "that, that's why! you're so, so good to me, and so gentle? an' i can't, i can't bring myself to believe that you weren't always kind, that i didn't know you were. there's so many feelings, so many, inside me, and i just...it  _ can't _ only be from the last four months, there's no way that i didn't...whoever i was before, he must have felt this way for you, too, because i keep finding things that makes me think maybe i did? and i do? is any of this making sense?"

No, but Boss didn't say that. He was following, but only barely. "It doesn't matter if it makes sense, just keep going. Get it out."

Stretch squeezed his hands, breathing deeply and letting it out slowly like Boss had taught him to do whenever he started to get worked up.

"i'm saying that i keep finding stuff, in my phone, in my room? that makes me think i was secretly in love with you before all this." He let go of his hands and fetched his phone from the top of his dresser, tapping through the lock code. "in a text line with dede, my undyne? i was scrolling back to get a feel of our friendship before i met her again. and there's this bit, look--"

He handed the phone to him and he took it, confused and numb by the somewhat-admission of feelings. He looked where Stretch pointed, and the little bubble with Stretch's face started the conversation.

**(xxx):** how do you know when you have a crush on someone?

**dede:** U srs dude? You've had more crushes than I ever will

**(xxx):** i mean a real one, real feelings

**(xxx):** cuz lately i've been feeling different about someone i used 2 hate and now i'm freaking out a little

**dede:** Well what do you mean different?

**(xxx):** like, used to be when we were arguing i would wanna hit him, but now i kinda wanna kiss him

**(xxx):** is that normal?? is that healthy??

**dede:** do u fight about anything important?

**(xxx):** it's mostly calling each other names and arguing about rules in games, or maybe over how to dress hot chocolate. i guess nothing earth-shattering

**(xxx):** sometimes he insults me and i insult him back and i walk away feeling all flustered

**dede:** Dude. That's called flirting.

**(xxx):** ??? it is not flirting!

**dede:** I've seen you argue about those things with people. It's flirting.

What came next was a series of complicated emotions conversations he couldn't decipher, so he handed the phone back to him.

"It does...sound like us," he said neutrally, trying to keep a top on his roiling emotions. "I think I'm the only person you ever argued with like that."

"later in the conversation it sounds like i gave it a shot? but it didn't work," he said. "dede tried to tell me to give it time but i seemed done with it."

"There was a period of time you were kind to me, flirtatious, even," Boss affirmed. "But, you told me you were joking, right when I started to trust it."

Stretch made a frustrated noise and almost clutched his skull, stopping himself and lowering his hands. "i don't understand! i'm so confused! why would i do that?"

"I don't know," Boss said, trying to soothe him. He stood, crossing the room to catch Stretch's hovering hands. "I don't know, Stretch, but if you're implying what I think you're implying, then what's it matter now? If you feel some sort of way, you should just say it."

"i…" His eyelights flicked away, before flicking back and settling on his. "i really, really like being with you. you make me feel safe, and like i'm not an idiot even though i can barely feed myself some days. every day when it's time for you to go i wish you wouldn't, i wish you would stay, and hold me, and...maybe kiss me?"

And there it is. The point he'd been hinting, that Boss couldn't let himself yearn for. It was real, and it was out in the open now.

Boss dropped Stretch's hands, instead going for cradling his cheekbones, bringing him closer to lean their foreheads together. "I won't lie, Stretch. Every day when I leave, I don't want to go. I want to stay, and hold you, and maybe kiss you. I want to see you smile more, I want to hear your laugh. And even before the accident, I will admit a part of me wanted this even then, a part of me died and built up walls when you told me you were joking."

"i'm sorry," he squeaked, clumsy hands gripping the front of his shirt. "i don't know why i did that."

"Probably for the same reason I haven't kissed you yet," Boss breathed. "I'm scared. Scared of hurting you. Scared of getting hurt."

"you won't hurt me," Stretch said confidently, leaning back enough for Boss' good eye to focus on his face. "i don't know a lot, can't remember much, but i know that."

Before he could say anything else to protest, Stretch leaned up and closed the distance, and Boss' soul skipped a beat as he kissed him, and almost too eagerly he pulled him all the way in, returning the kiss with all the desperation and affection he'd been holding back for weeks now.

It was all so insane, so ridiculous--from Stretch pretending he needed more help than he did, to confessions at 2:38 in the morning, to the question marks surrounding Stretch before the accident…

...not a damn thing made sense in either of their lives, but this felt like it did. It felt right.

"We have a lot to talk about," Boss muttered against his mouth, breathless between kisses. "This...could be dangerous. I worry about you, and--"

"later," Stretch hushed, kissing him again, and again. "later, i promise we'll talk about it all. right now i just want this."

"Alright," he agreed, voice barely a mumble as their mouths met again, this time with the tiniest swipe of a tongue.

It was quiet but for labored breaths as they stood in the middle of the room, clinging desperately to each other, until finally, reluctantly, they had to part.

"don't leave this time," Stretch pleaded. "stay the night, hold me? in case i have another nightmare?"

"Alright," he said softly. "I'll stay. I have to get up early and check on Red, but...I'll stay."

It took only a few minutes to get settled in bed, holding him close to his chest, nearly too tight but Stretch was holding him just as tightly. He drew the blanket up and kissed his forehead.

Boss had never really cared about Valentine's Day before, but...something tells him he won't ever forget this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys still have some things to work out, but this is a start, at least!


End file.
